


For Crown and Country

by TheDemonLedger



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Tudor Era, Anxiety, Cheating, Confusion, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Frustration, Gale Royalty, Historical, Historical Dress, Historical References, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark Smut, Katniss Princess, Love, Painter Peeta, Painting, Peeta Painter, Primrose Princess, Public Sex, Risque Sex, Romance, Royal Wedding, Royalty, Sex, Sexual Frustration, Smut, Tension, Tudor Era, Unwanted marriage, affair, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-03-17 16:10:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 56,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18968701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDemonLedger/pseuds/TheDemonLedger
Summary: The Princess, Katniss Everdeen, Daughter of Queen Emily Everdeen, is betrothed to marry Lord Gale Hawthorne, and has been for fourteen years. When she meets Peeta Mellark, replacement artist hired to paint a portrait of Katniss before her wedding, she doesn't know what to think. His blue eyes are like vast oceans; she would like to fall into them and escape.First in Summer of Writings - my challenge to myself starting in two weeks to write every day for all of the summer!





	1. Make Do

**Author's Note:**

> All rights reserved to Suzanne Collins and any other owners of the Hunger Games. I do not own any of the copy-written material contained within this story. Please note that this story contains some graphic themes that may not be suitable for all audiences. Tags as listed.

Horns were the first sound Katniss heard all day aside from the rattling and rumbling of her carriage. Horses whinnied in dismay at the loud, brassy noise - as they stomped and rallied, the cart swayed back and forth in its stopped position. The midday sun was occluded by treacherous rain clouds which threatened to burst forth and douse her party with their seething brood. It seemed the weather was unaware of its impertinence; today was Katniss’ eighteenth birthday, though of course, the celebration planned for the day was not in regards to that. Rather, today was the official declaration of her betrothal, and in two weeks time, she would be married to Lord Gale Hawthorne II of Bergenon. Her home of Panem was a small spot of land locked neatly against the coast by other, far more auspicious countries. Celebrations such as this were monumental occasions. Clouds, and the rain that fell from them, had no business rearing their lamentable bodies against what should have been her bluest skies. The door to her carriage swung open, revealing the castle in Bergenon, where she would spend the next two weeks celebrating a fourteen year engagement. Her feelings of ill disguised petulance bubbled just beneath the surface of her well practiced smile as she accepted her footman’s helping hand and descend the stairs from her coach.

“The Princess, Katniss!” called a voice to her left. Those people who lined the cobbled path in front of her bowed, knelt, and curtsied until she had passed.

“The Lady Primrose!” the same voice bellowed; Katniss glanced over her shoulder to see Prim exiting gracefully, and smirked to herself. If only their roles were reversed; Primrose would make a far better princess than Katniss. Her sister shimmered in the light of the court, full of the youthful grace that Katniss felt she herself so obviously lacked. Even as she straightened her posture and clasped her hands demurely in front of her sweeping skirt, it felt wrong. As if every fibre of her being was straining against this one task set in between her and rest. _God, I hope it rains._ She thought to herself, dismissing her earlier, childish annoyances at the weather.

Her mother waited just inside the main gate. Katniss curtsied and bowed her head as she knew was proper. Her long, full gown hid the shaking of her knees as she waited for her mother's hand upon her shoulder. It came, instead, to her chin, and guided her space to look upwards.

“My beautiful princess,” said her mother, eyes soft. “Stand.” Katniss did as she was told, standing just to the side of her mother, who wound her fingers through Katniss’ trembling ones. Her mother leaned towards her, turning her head downwards to whisper into Katniss’ ear. “Are you nervous to see your betrothed? It is not as though he has not spent time in your company before.”

“No, mama,” replied Katniss faintly. “Simply hoping against the rain.” The queen nodded slightly at this, squeezed her daughters fingers, and released her. Prim was curtseying before them. Their mother touched a hand briefly to her shoulder and brushed past them both.

“The queen,” said Prim politely, weaving one arm through her sisters and falling into step beside her. “Seems to keep your highness, the Princess in her favor today.”

Katniss appraised her sister before responding, glancing swiftly between her and their mothers disappearing form in front of them. “Perhaps,” she speculated, tone light. “But perhaps if you were to be married in two weeks time, you would also see the _very,”_ she stressed the word with a pressured squeeze of her sisters wrist, “faint light of Her Majesty’s love as well.”

Prim laughed, a tinkling noise that set Katniss more at ease than any generic gesture from their mother. “Perhaps indeed, dear sister. “ They continued forward through the castle grounds, skirts rustling. “Do you think I will ever be married, as you are?” asked Prim in an undertone. Katniss nodded slowly.

“You do not have the duty of bringing an heir to our throne,” Katniss whispered, “as I do. But I’m sure our mother will find a man to wed you to.”

“If only to empty my estate for her own,” Prim reasoned. Katniss laughed now, a lower sound than that of her sisters. A drop of water hit her face, and she looked up, squinting at the dark grey clouds.

“The rain is upon us,” said Katniss, squeezing her sisters hand before releasing her arm. “We would do best not to dally, your grace.”

Another blast of horns guided them into the castle, the yellow light of flickering torches cast mutable shadows over them. The rain came down in sheets moments after they both made it through the wide double doors. Katniss heard one of her ladies shriek in surprise; soon the rain was creating vast and opaque waves of rain that swept through the grounds with the wind. It soaked their party through, who had followed the sisters at a respectful pace and were now running to get under cover. Katniss ushered them in, placing one hand on her maid, Madge, who’s hair stuck to her forehead and neck where it had come out of her perfectly pinned updo.

“Is everyone as wet as you are?” asked Katniss. Madge nodded.

“If not worse, my lady.” She looked out the front doors, away from the princess, towards the girls still running into the castle. She wore the standard that all Katniss’ ladies-in-waiting wore: dresses whose colors matched those of her own. Today, blue of varying shades, all darker than her own, and a navy cape buttoned at the throat. Her hair had been pinned away from her face and neck; this gave Madge a doeish look. All the girls had different shades of blue ribbon running through their hair, denoting position within her party. Madge’s ribbon was almost black, so navy was its hue.

“Please escort everyone to change their skirts and cloaks. Take down your hair until it’s time to get ready,” said Katniss firmly, squeezing Madge’s shoulder. Her lady nodded and ushered the other girls away as Katniss turned back to her sister. “I am hopeful your quarters are near to mine.”

“As am I, dear sister,” replied Prim with a smile. “If they are, perhaps I can steal your chambermaid, as mine seem to grow more useless by the day.” They both laughed.

Quick footsteps from behind had hand Katniss turning. A man stopped in front of her and bowed deeply.

“Your Highness,” he said, kissing the ring on her proffered right hand.

“Sir Thomas,” she replied with a smile. “Primrose, this is Sir Thomas Cobb, of Yon.” Prim curtsied gently as he bowed deeply to her.

“Your Highness may just call me Thom, if you wish.” Thom stood, offering his arm to Katniss. “I’ve been sent by Lord Hawthorne and Her Majesty, the Queen to escort you to your chambers.” Katniss looped her arm delicately over his and smiled back at Prim.

The castle seemed to Katniss a great deal smaller than how she had remembered it to be in her yearth. Then again, she had been a great deal smaller herself as well. Free reign hadn’t seemed like such a luxury then, either; though now Katniss doubted whether she’d ever had such a thing, or rather if her spatial confinement has been limited slowly over the years. _Like a water brought up to boil,_ she thought blithely. Any child of hers would have to be brought up differently. She would insist on it.

“So, Thom,” said Katniss, breaking the silence between the trio as they made their way up yet another flight of stairs, “how are you wife and child?”

“They are very well, madame,” replied Thom with a smile.

“Do you remember her, Primrose?” asked Katniss over he shoulder. “She was one of mother’s ladies. Forgive my rudeness but I’ve forgotten her name.”

“Dahlia, Your Majesty. But you may have known her by Delly,” Thom reminded her patiently.  
“Quite right- oh,” simpered Katnissm pulling a smile onto her previously blank countinenance. “And the sex of your child?”

“A boy, ma’am,” he replied warmly. “Name Charles, after my father.” Katniss’ smile deepened and she patted his hand. He stopped, moving from her grasp to gesture her towards a large set of double doors. He bowed again. “It has been an honor, Princess.” Katniss’ curtsies slightly and put one hand on the handle to the door.

“Your Highness,” said Thom as he straightened, “your sister’s room is immediately to your left.” Katniss nodded.

“Show her, if you will. And who should I elect to notify my mother when we are dressed?”

“I shall have some of your ladies within to assist you posthaste.” Thom stepped lightly away from her, one arm extended towards her sister. The princess pushed open the door to her quarters. She had grown used to overly elaborate rooms - so much to the point that they bored her. Her four poster bed sat squarely in the heart of the room, a looming requisite pushed against the far wall. It was made up with silk sheets and a downy comforter embroidered with no small amount of gold thread. Pillows of all sorts and shapes sat against the headboard, too many for her to count. Exhausted from her ride and the requirements of conversing as a princess, Katniss moved to the large bed and sat lightly on the edge. The balls of her feet still pressed against the oak flooring, and one hand rested on the bedpost beside her. She reached up with her free hand to the pins in her long dark hair, removing them and letting it fall in soft waves around her face.

A light knock came from her door.

“Come in,” she said. Madge entered, followed by a fox-faced, red-headed girl whom Katniss did not yet know the name of. They both curtsied lightly, then took their usual places beside the bed. Katniss took as deep a breath as she could against her stays and stood. “I must change from my travelling clothes,” she said, keeping on hand on the banister. She pressed the other to her stomach. “I understand my dresses were sent ahead.”

“Yes, my lady,” said the fox-faced girl. Madge came around the bed and stood in front of Katniss, already beginning to undo the hooks that gathered the front of her gown.

“Cath,” she said. “Will you fetch a pitcher of water to wash the lady’s face with?” The fox-faced girl - whom Katniss now knew to be named Catherine - nodded and hurried from the room. Madge pulled the light yellow gown off Katniss shoulders and draped it gently across the bed. “Would you prefer the green or blue gown, my lady? I see no reason to remove your stays and petticoats.”

Katniss grimace. “I should like to rest a while,” she replied, removing her silk kerchief by pulling it from beneath her bodice.

“Perhaps not just now my lady,” replied Madge with a tentative smile as she began to unlace Katniss’ skirt. Catherine entered again with a large porcelain pitcher clasped in her hand.  
“I’ll collect your dress while you wash.” Madge moved around the back of Katniss, to remove the skirt fully and drape it gently across the bedspread.

“Yes, of course,” Katniss paused, “well, if we must now, the green, as that is the one with the shorter sleeves.” Katniss leaned down, allowing Madge to pull the skirt off over her head. Her lady nodded and removed the few remaining hair pins from her dark brown hair.

“Would my lady prefer to wear no farthingale tonight?” asked Madge with a knowing style?

“If you must require me to wear three petticoats to fill out that skirt, I should rather do that by far,” Katniss replied. Katniss moved to the table where Catherine stood beside a bowl of water. The bowl was beautiful - another piece of porcelain painted a deep blue. She cupped the cold water and brought it to her face. It shocked her skin but she did it again, hoping to revitalize herself from the long carriage journey. Still bent over the bowl, she accepted a linen cloth from Catherine and patted her face dry with it.

“My lady,” said Madge quietly, “I require your involvement.” Katniss sighed, but bit the inside of her cheek and forced a smile.

* * *

Elsewhere in the castle, Gale Hawthorne was pacing his quarters, awaiting audience with the queen. There was a hard rap on his door that made him jump a little, breaking him from his concentrated memorization of how he wanted to beseech Her Majesty.

“Enter,” he said impatiently, pausing only to see who it was. Thom entered, bowing hastily before shutting the door behind him. “Are the preparations ready?” asked Gale, resuming his pacing.

“Yes, my-”

“And the queen?”

“Well, you see, sir -”

“Yes?” Gale cut across him, and his tone was harsh, unyielding in its vitriol.

“She does not which to take audience with you at this time, my lord.” Thom bowed his head, avoiding Gale’s eyes, which flashed cruelly. The smaller man took a breath. “She says she is tired from her journey and will see you in only two hours for the festivities tonight, but wishes to remain undisturbed until then.” Gales face was set in a discordant sneer, and he tuc ked hi thrumbs into the tied waste of his breeches, then reached up to straight hi black jerkin’s collar.

“Leave me,” gale replied with a wave of his hand. As soon as Thom was gone from the room, Gale pulled from his pocket an ornately carved wooden box. This held Katniss’ betrothal ring; it had been his mothers, and her mothers before her. An old tradition - a family heirloom. He needed to seek council with the queen.

* * *

“Your Eminence,” called Gale, hurrying to catch the white-haired cardinal before he entered his private chambers. “I was hoping to have a word with you, in regards to the queen.”

“My lord,” the cardinal replied. He bowed, then opened the door to his chambers, allowing Gale inside. “What do you wish to commune with me?”

“I beseech you to find me audience with Her Majesty before this evening's gallantries,” Gale said, crossing his arms over his chest as the old man took his seat across from him. “In regards to my engagement with the princes.”

“You are aware I am only here to oversee the wedding which - I hope = will be done in two weeks? I am not Her Majesty’s advisor,” said the cardinal, shuffling he parchments in front of him.

“I am aware,” Gale said, teeth gritted. “But I also know the queen takes your opinion in high regard.” The cardinal paused halfway to putting on his glasses, lifting his eyes without lifting his head.

“I shall see what I can do. Now if Your Grace has no further issues, I should wish to return to my correspondence and have you summoned to Her Majesty’s chambers should she allow it.” Gale nodded and stalked from the room, chewing his lip as he went.

He didn’t return to his chambers. The over decorated room gave gale the feeling of being trapped inside a large play chest. No, he couldn’t stand to be within that room longer than what was absolutely necessary. He ventured instead down the long hall he knew held the room of his betrothed. He rapped lightly, almost tentatively on her door.

“Enter,” came her commanding tone. He opened the door slowly, and edged in. She was still wearing only her underdress, and his eyes scanned her form as he made his measured way into a deep bow.

“Your Highness,” said Gale, attempting to keep the laughter from his voice.

“Lord Hawthorne,” Katniss said. There was a rustling of skirts. Gale’s back was starting to ache. “Leave me, girls.” One of her chambermaids hurried from the room; the other whispered in a low tone, but he couldn't make out her words. Katniss huffed impatiently. “Go check on my sister. Her ladies are not so competent as you.” There were more skirts rustling and Katniss’ hand appeared before him as the other woman disappeared from the bedchamber. The hand Katniss offered did not hold the signet ring so telling of her position as princess, but was bare. Gale glanced up at her as he pressed his lips to her knuckles. “My lord knows he is not meant to be in my chambers, yes?” She squeezed his hand. “Oh, please stand.”

Gale stood, a smirk etched onto his face. “How are you, Catnip?” Katniss pressed forward, winding her skinny arms around his taut frame. She shook her head. They stood very still for a moment, one of his hands smoothing down her hair, the other smoothing slow, steady circles into her back.

“Promise me one thing,” Katniss said. Gale grunted in affirmation, stepping back from her. “When we are married, cease calling me by your peevish childhood nickname for me.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Gale said, reaching one hand up to trail down her cheek, “but until that day-”

“Which is only but two weeks away,” Katniss reminded.

“Two weeks in my castle,” Gale goaded. Katniss smiled and pressed her cheek into his hand. “With me around every corner.”

“Ah yes,” said Katniss, closing her eyes against the cloying smile that threatened to overtake her. “Two weeks of watching you try secretly to sneak my ladies from my chamber to yours.”

“Your Highness has me wrong,” Gale frowned, hand moving to grip behind her neck. “I am loyal only to you.”

Katniss reached one hand up and pulled his arm gently from her. “Loyalty is nothing to do with it, my lord.” Katniss opened her eyes finally to search Gale’s face. It was impassive, though it edged towards teasing. She sighed.

“Katniss,” Gale lamented, sliding his hand down her face and to her collarbone. She stepped back and bowed her head.

“You ought not to be here, my lord. I shall see you in only two hours time.” Katniss looked up at him through her eyelashes, then glanced at the bed, covered in the scarves she was meant to choose from.

“You might think to not be so formal with me. We are friends, are we not?” Gale asked, stepping closer. His hands went to grip her waist. Katniss pursed her lips and scowled at him. She set her hands gently on his wrists and pushed them away.

“Perhaps we are,” she replied, “in which case you should mind your manners, and the princesses boundaries.” She brushed herself off, and turned to pick a scarf. “Go now. I must finish getting ready if we really are meant to be engaged tonight.” Gale stood looking at her for a time, backed out of the room, bowed, and left.

The ladies were waiting just beyond the door, and bowed their heads, stooping to curtsey when the door opened. Gale looked at them, and Madge looked up. He winked at her as a smile crept onto his face. “I’m sure the princess requires your assistance more within her chambers than without.” He set off back down the hall, whistling gently, his hands clasped behind her back.

Katniss was fiddling the edge of a light blue voile scarf between her fingers when her ladies re-entered the room. “I should not pretend I am comfortable,” she said quietly as Madge made to remove the scarf from her. She picked up a boars hair brush from the bed and began brushing it over Katniss’ gown, removing any stray threads and flattening it. She picked up the long overskirt, a dark evergreen, and moved around Katniss’ front.

“I’m unsure what you mean, my lady,” Madge replied, stooping to wind the skirt and underskirt ties together before gathering a handful of straight pins off the bed. “Would you like a different room?”

Katniss picked up a silk scarf, a pale yellow embossed with blue flowers, and rubbed the material between her fingers while Madge continued to pin her skirt in place. She turned her attention to Catherine, who bowed her head at the severe look on Katniss’ face. “Will you alert Her Majesty the queen of our readiness, then go see the other girls about changing you into something more appropriate?” She eyed Catherine over as she nodded and turned from the room. “Green will wash her of all color, unfortunately,” Katniss remarked offhandedly. Madge stood stooped, brushing Katniss’ skirt with the flat of her hands in a vain attempt to get it to fall straight. Katniss offered Madge the silk scarf, which Madge draped over Katniss’ shoulders, tucking it down into the hard line of her kirtle. There was a long silence as Madge picked up Katniss’ shirt and stepped behind her.

“My lady, please tell me if there is something I can do to or ask for to improve your comfort. I know how you dislike these embellished rooms,” Madge said softly as Katniss slipped her arms into the shirt. It was a light green, matching the underskirt. She bit her lip.

“It is not the room,” Katniss replied. “I am just eighteen. I do not want to be married.” Her voice was tight, and she cleared her throat, blinking away tears that had just started to form. “But perhaps it is not my age. Hmm,” she hummed as Madge began to work the eyes and hooks together on the front of her garment. “Perhaps it is the man. Why should I marry if not for love?” Katniss tugged at the edges of her sleeves, which fell just past the elbow, and looked at Madge, who pressed two hands gently into Katniss’ shoulders and brushed any stray dirt, dust, or debris away.

“My lady will forgive me, I hope, but…” Madge adjusted Katniss’ scarf, “perhaps your station does not permit you to love.” Katniss smiled sadly at her lady’s words. She reached up and placed one hand against her old friends cheek.

“I suppose you are correct, as always. What would I do without you?” Katniss asked, moving to the vanity to begin pinning up her hair.

“Struggling to dress - or worse still,” Madge paused, watching Katniss with her head tilted to one side, “having Catherine attempt to dress you.” They both laughed.

“You will have to get married in love for both of us, Madge,” said Katniss, looking at her in the mirror. Madge’s smile faded and she nodded courteously. “Go have the girls help you dress. There is not much time left to prepare oneself for the engagement of a princess.” Madge wrinkled her nose and shook her head, then curtsied gently and left the room, pausing only to give Katniss one last, firm smile.

Madge was right, as she always was when Katniss confided in her. She pressed a hand to her forehead, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes again. It would not do her any good to cry now, so soon before a celebration in her honor, But she felt plagued by her apprehension. It stuck in her throat like the astringent smell of tannin. What she wouldn’t give to be spending the next two weeks in her own bed, in her own home. Though Gale had been her friend all her life, she could not shake the feeling that the love between them was only that: friendly. Katniss shook herself off and went back to pinning up her hair. She was so ungrateful of her position as princess. How could she possibly make do as queen?


	2. Simultaneous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta, Gale, and Katniss prepare for the party - and the announcement of the engagement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! I haven't posted in three days and my heart is breaking for it - I meant to post every day, but I just haven't had enough time to /complete/ the writing I was working on, let alone post anything.  
> To make up for it, in between cleaning and packing to go on vacation, I'll try to post twice more today (no guarantees tho).  
> I hope you like this chapter. I'm gonna try to update this story next Friday. I've got a big long list of things I'm working on, though. We'll see.

The castle in Bergenon was a long way from Peeta Mellark’s home in the city of Seamme, which rested in the heart of Panem, just outside the bustling capitol that housed the nobility. Even as his carriage rounded the wide corner of this sheltered, tree-lined roadway, and trundled onto the pebbled entry, Peeta was struck at the unfamiliarity of it all. Though his name was spoken over much of Panem and his art was housed in some of the finest galleries, homes, and archives, he felt his portraits by no means a masterstroke - certainly not good enough for the woman who would one day become queen. Peeta’s hands shook as he approached the Hawthorne estate. The castle was small - much smaller than Peeta had expected, and appeared more as a manor house than that of a lord. Still, its wide windows and two story build had a certain grandiosity that he couldn’t deny. He wished he had never agreed to this; but then, how could you say no to the princesses fiance? A light breeze shook the leaves of the tall apple trees in the huge front garden as his carriage came to a halt. Peeta took a deep breath and exited the cart.

He had to stoop immediately into a low bow as the door shut behind him, surprise knocking the wind from him: His Lord Gale Hawthorne stood before him, just beside the cart, hands clasped behind his back. A chuckle exited the young man, and Peeta had to resist raising his eyes.

“Please stand,” said the Hawthorne man lightly. He was handsome, Peeta noticed as he stood: a firm, chiseled jaw was set regally behind half-lidded eyes and a strong brow. “Thank you for attending us at such short notice. The queen’s usual painter has fallen ill, I heard.” Peeta nodded in response, a noncommittal action, and the lord swung an arm, indicating Peeta to follow; he fell in step just behind Hawthorne, hands grasped behind his back as the Lord’s were.

“It is not a concern,” replied Peeta after a moment. “It will be an honor to paint your lordship and Her Royal Highness.

Hawthorne glanced back, a smirk playing at his lips. “Were you not informed?” he asked, side-stepping in through the door to get a better look at Peeta’s reaction. “You will only be painting the princess. It is tradition for all the women to have a portrait done before they are to be married,” he paused. “Calms the nerves.”

“It could take me the whole two weeks leading to your ceremony, my lord,” Peeta remarked. He tried to ignore the pounding of his heart, which accelerated further at the idea of being alone with the future queen.

“Oh, we are all aware. I just hope it to be relaxing for Her Highness,” replied the lord quietly. “The princess-” Hawthorne stopped himself and grimaced. “Well, in any case, you will start tomorrow; tonight, celebration.” Both men smiled at each other, and Peeta looked around as they set off down the hall.

Bergenon castle was splendiferous in its decorations; vast tapestries adorned the wide, long corridors, while sweeping, multicolored carpets covered the cold, stone floors. Peeta’s eyes scanned the portraits that graced the entryway, recognizing the style of a few. His heart thrummed nervously - if this was the standard of the portraits of past Lords of Bergenon, what of the queen? Lord Hawthorne led him up a long flight of stairs into another wide corridor with doors dotting every few paces.

“Your room,” began the lord, walking a distance to open the first door on the left, “has the widest and tallest windows on this floor, and looks out into the garden. I assumed,” he paused as he waited for Peeta to enter the room.Tall and wide the windows were, spanning almost the length of the room with their breadth. Peeta took another deep breath in shock and pleasure. “I assumed,” began Lord Hawthorne again, a smile on his face as Peeta turned to look at him, “you would need as much light as possible, to do the princess justice.” He paused again.

Peeta nodded and glanced around the room again. “Thank you,” Peeta said. “It will be more than enough, I am sure.” The lord dipped his head in a shallow bow and cleared his throat.

“I’ll have one of my valets inform you when the festivities are set to commence,” Lord Hawthorne said, “it should not be long now. And the footmen should be along any moment with your bags.” Peeta gave him a gracious smile, unsure what else to say. “And also, all canvas will be provided for you.”

“Your Lordship’s accommodations are a kindness,” Peeta said. He felt stiff and tight and wrong. The lord nodded once more, then turned on his heel and, without so much as a goodbye, left. Peeta pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He’d arrived after the royal party - after all the trumpetting and the parade of women and people that he knew would have arrived en masse. Still, he felt a wide tiredness and moved around the room, looking at all the things. A few chairs and a long, lounging couch took up the near corner, where the most light streamed in from the widest set of windows. A bed was set behind a long, ornate screen; it was wide, but modestly made. He sat in one of the chairs and stared around the room, wondering how he would have the princess sit. Nervousness sat hot in his stomach, but he pushed it away and settled on the bed. A knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” Peeta called. A footman entered, hefting along Peeta’s painters gear and his small travelling trunk. He bowed to Peeta - still something he was unsure if he would ever be used to - and backed out of the room. Peeta felt that cloying sort of exhaustion behind his eyes, and squeezed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stay awake. He knew there wouldn’t be time for rest, but leaned his head back against the pillows on his bed in any case, suddenly appreciative of the luxurious comfort beneath him. Even through his sleepy stupor, he can still imagine the princess, sitting in front of him, her dark hair obscuring her beautiful face like a curtain.

#

Peeta had seen the princess the year before in an off chance. He’d been delivering bread with his father to make up for the money lost doing paintings without notoriety. She’d been in the garden with her sister and their entourage, reading something aloud. As he looked around the corner, she had glanced up; their eyes had met, if only briefly before he had the thought to look away. He hadn’t expected her to look so normal. She’d been smiling at her sister, and the smile carried to her soulful eyes, which looked pale blue from the far distance. When he dipped his head down, he realized: he’d never seen a woman so beautiful in his life.

#

Gale jumped at the knock on his door, and bristled. “Enter,” he said stiffly, standing from his desk, where he wrote with shaking hands in a small journal. Archbishop Snow entered, his hands clutched behind his back.

“The queen has conceded to see you,” said Snow sharply. “Given your insistence, I think it’s best if I escort you to her chambers now.” Gale looked around and then nodded, and followed the bishop down the hall and up a flight of stairs. “You have ten minutes,” Snow said to him as he pushed the door to the queen’s chamber open. Gale walked in, practically bowing before his body was fully across the threshold. The queen sat in a high back chair facing away from the windows, and looked down at him with annoyance in her features.

“Stand,” she said brusquely.

Gale stood in front of the queen, head bowed. Emily cleared her throat and he lifted his head.

“You seek council, Lord Hawthorne, so be it,” the queen waited for him to speak. He eyed the women to her left and right, and cleared his throat.

“I wish to marry the princess this evening,” Gale said. His voice was stiff and stern, and the queen looked surprised at the demand.

“No,” she replied coolly, “that was not the arrangement made.”

“The arrangement,” Gale interjected, trying to keep the ice from his voice, “was that Katniss wait to marry until she is eighteen. She is eighteen tonight - I do not see why we cannot be married now.”

“Because,” the queen answered, “that is not her wish.”

“And what of my wishes, your majesty?”

“What of them?” the queen shot back. Gale could tell she was beginning to lose her temper with him.

“Do I not have some say in my affairs?” Gale asked. “Some pull? Leeway? I am marrying the future queen of Panem, your majesty.”

“Marrying my daughter does not make you prince, just as her coronation will not make you king. That is never how this has worked.”

“Well, what does that make me then?”

“Her husband,” the queen said. She seemed amused by his misunderstanding. Gale bit the inside of his lip. “Just as my husband before you, and my mother’s before mine. If you wish to end a fourteen year engagement, Lord Hawthorne, be my guest,” the queen paused, then stood and moved towards him. Her grey dress, high-collared and austere, lengthened her, making him feel small beneath her gaze. “But remember that the position as Earl of Bergenon is in part a favor, from my husband to your father.” The queens expression turned simpering. “You do not understand what it is, to fight for the respect of those beneath you.”

“My queen,” Gale backtracked, “I did not mean to cause you to think-”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.” The queen turned her back on him, heading back to her throne-like chair. “It is, as you say, the princess you’re marrying. Have you considered asking her for the advancement of the date?”

“I thought I could expedite the process if I came to you first,” Gale said cooly.

“You were wrong,” the queen replied as she sat. “If that is quite all?”

“One final question, your highness,” Gale said. The queen inclined her head, indicating for him to speak. “What you mean by me being only the husband to Katniss,” he paused, trying to select his words carefully, “I advance none in station or rank?”

The queen frowned, then smirked at him. “Do you know nothing of the monarchy, my lord?” Gale’s face remained impassive as stone, waiting for her to reply. “You are not the sovereign of our nation, but that does not make you disposable.” She laughed. “On the contrary, Lord Hawthorne, King Consort is a valuable title which I’m sure many a man would trade an arm, leg, or mind for.”

Gale considered her words for a moment before speaking. “Your majesty has been most gracious to allow me audience,” he says with a bow. He continues to chew his lip as he backs out of the room, turning only to push open the door. There is anger in his face, but he swallows it down. It would not do to lose his temper, on tonight of all nights.

#

Katniss sat in front of her mother, allowing Emily’s nimble fingers to form a crown of braids in Katniss’ long, dark hair. She hummed a soft tune while she does so, and then pushed a pin through the tail end, holding it in place. Emily tapped Katniss’ shoulder, indicating she could rise, but the princess stayed in her position at her mother’s feet, mind rolling over and over in contemplation. Emily sighed and set a hand gently on her daughter’s shoulder.

“What is it, my love?” she asked Katniss, voice low and sweet. Katniss shook her head and glanced at her mother. The older woman’s face reflected more of Prim back than Katniss, of which she was grateful: the reminder of her sister always lessened Katniss’ anger towards her mother, no matter how strong or unquenchable it seemed to be. Katniss shook her head.

“I was thinking,” she said slowly, “what if we had the wedding at home?”

“What if we did?” said her mother slyly, a smile curling the edges of her mouth. “Do you want to?” Katniss shrugged.

“I was thinking, maybe it would comfort me to be at home, in the castle, and not have to travel again until our trip in the fall.” Katniss squinted at the corner of the room, looking at nothing but trying not to hold her breath. Hope, she knew, was a foolish endeavor.

“Then we shall hold the wedding at home.” The queen squeezed Katniss’ shoulder tightly, bony fingers digging into the soft flesh below her collarbone. “You can announce it this evening.” Katniss stood and her mother smiled at her, then held out her arms for a hug - rare, but in this moment, well appreciated by Katniss.

“I love you, mama,” Katniss whispered into her mother’s ear. Emily’s hand came up to stroke the back of Katniss head, and she released her, bestowing a smile on her.

“And I, you, Katniss.” Her mother patted her hands. “Go, fetch your sister and we can all walk to the ballroom together.” Katniss curtsied low and left, a spring in her step that hadn’t been there when she entered.

#

Some short time after his arrival, a valet entered after a short, sharp rap. He was short and a little stocky, with beetle-like eyes hidden behind thin-framed spectacles. He bowed his head and then spoke to Peeta in a high, whispery voice. Peeta stared up at the canopy over his four-poster,

“Your sir should consider readying himself for the celebration tonight.” The man stared at Peeta as he continued to lay on the bed, studying the fabric above him. “It shall commence post-haste,” the man continued, seeming agitated by Peeta’s apparent apathy.

Peeta cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said pointedly. The valet left with a small huff. Peeta stood; now was as good a time as any to meet the woman he would someday call “Queen”.

#

The ballroom was full of people, all far above his station. He couldn’t reconcile the idea of his presence with theirs, let alone the fact that he stood by the wall, a silver goblet in his hand, watching a dance he knew none of the steps to. He should have prepared better; even with one weeks notice, he was not necessarily poor, and had been invited on occasion to festivities that would have taught him some steps to the outrageous choreography set before him. Instead he had moaned to those in his close circle of friends about the idea of being trapped in a castle, dealing with royalty and nobility, while they at home had the luxury of the common folk. He should be more grateful, he knew, for the opportunity to paint the princess was as nothing he’d yet done compared. The only thing better would be to paint the pope. Peeta cast away the thought, but still couldn’t bring himself to look up at the dias upon which the princess and her small group of courtiers were stationed. A hand clapped him on the shoulder and he jumped.

“Haymitch!” he said, accepting a hug from the haggard looking man. He smiled kindly at Peeta.

“Peeta,” he replied.

“What are you doing here?” asked Peeta, incredulous. “I was unaware an old drunk was allowed in the courts.” Haymitch shook his head and laughed.

“The princess may know me better as uncle,” he replied, a smirk lifting at the surprised expression. Peeta’s smile fell from his face and he took a long sip of wine, eyes wide. “But you shouldn’t look so shocked, Peeta. Godfather is a common title.” Peeta rubbed his chin and laughed nervously.

“My lord,” he started, but Haymitch raised a hand to cut him off.

“None of that now,” Haymitch laughed. “This Earl of Coalsten prefers the quiet life in Seamme by far over those you see in this castle.” He nudged Peeta with his elbow. “I couldn’t miss my goddaughter’s engagement, however.” His tone was bitter. Haymitch gestured to those standing on the platform with Katniss. “She is beautiful,” he said, almost disappointed. Peeta chanced a glance; as he remembered, Katniss’ dark hair shone from the torches set around the room, almost mahogany in its coloring, and laced together in an intricate crown on her head. Her face, though currently bored and expressionless, was softly defined, though her olive tone and straight, sharp nose gave her a surveying quality, as though silently judging. As he watched, she leaned her head to one side, listening to something another girl was saying, and a smile cut across the strictly tamed features, wild and uninhibited.

“That she is, my lord,” Peeta conceded with a short laugh. Haymitch chuckles.

“Too bad she’s marrying that Hawthorne boy,” Haymitch glanced at Peeta, who shook his head.

“You really are something,” Peeta said, then smirked and continued to watch the dancers with an amused air.

#

Katniss scanned the room disinterestedly, feeling bored. She’d yet to dance - not that she was particularly any good - and felt underwhelmed by everything around her. Madge’s words from earlier still tickled the back of her mind: perhaps princesses do not marry for love, but for honor, loyalty, and sacrifice. The thought depressed her deeply, but she dismissed it, carrying her eyes across the ballroom floor to the walls, where several single men stood waiting for the dance to end. Her eyes fell on her uncle - godfather - and a face that was at once familiar and foreign. She cleared her throat.

“Madge,” she whispered. Madge stepped to her side at once, her pale green dress rustling. She tipped her head towards Katniss, listening for a question. “You see that man besides my uncle?”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Madge, glancing in that direction.

“Who is that?” Katniss searched his face once more, trying to remember where she could have seen him before.

“That’s Peeta Mellark, my lady,” Madge whispered. “He’s to paint your portrait by these two weeks end.” Katniss shook her head almost imperceptibly. “Do you recognize him?”

“I do, but I can’t seem to place where.” Katniss chewed the inside of her lip, then glanced to Gale, who was flirting unabashedly with Catherine. She raised one eyebrow and let out a short huff. “Remind me to put Catherine in with my mother’s ladies tonight,” Katniss commented off-handedly. Madge glanced over at Gale and Catherine and shook her head.

“Yes, my lady,” she said with a slight bow of her head. Madge curtsied and moved away again. Katniss continued to watch Gale with apprehension until her sister moved to stand beside her.

“Katniss,” said Prim under her breath, “I would like to join the dancers, would you?” Katniss held back a grin and nodded.

“Perhaps we should ask our Uncle to dance,” Katniss said lightly. Prim nodded and gripped her sisters wrist as they descended from the dias. They walked together to where Haymitch spoke animatedly with the Mellark man, and Prim curtsied gracefully in front of him while Katniss merely inclined her head. “Uncle,” she said, biting back laughter. Haymitch eyed her suspiciously.

“We were wondering if you would do us the honor of a dance,” Prim said, straining to keep herself from bursting with glee.

“Of course, girls,” Haymitch said, then frowned theatrically. “But there’s only one of me, and there are two of you.” Katniss watched Haymitch glance at Peeta, who was staring off into the distance. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said, clutching Peeta’s arm. She knew when her uncle was playing games with them, but liked it all the same; he feigned embarrassment for Peeta’s neglect and waved a hand towards Prim. “This is the Lady Primrose, of Treize, and Her Royal Highness, the Princess.” Prim curtsied as Peeta bowed, but Katniss forgot herself as his eyes met hers: they were startlingly blue. The glance they shared seemed longer than what was appropriate, and she felt her heart skip in her chest. She watched him lean into a low bow. Haymitch cleared his throat, and Katniss gave a small, sudden curtsy in an attempt to hide her blunder. “Girls, this is Peeta Mellark. He lives in Seamme and is an excellent artist.” Katniss watched Haymitch pretend to think. “Peeta, would you like to join us for a dance?”

Peeta’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Oh, no, Haymitch, I couldn’t-”

“You can,” he said, tugging Peeta’s arm as he resisted, “and you will.” Peeta stepped forward and whispered into Haymitch’s ear quickly. “Well, then you will have to dance with the princess. She knows all the steps.” Haymitch moved Peeta so he stood in front of Katniss, eyes wide and lips a thin, firm line. Her uncle chuckled as he took Prim’s hand and escorted her onto the dance floor.

“You majesty,” said Peeta in an undertone. Katniss scratched behind her ear and looked awkwardly around. “I cannot dance.”

“No matter,” Katniss said. She extended a hand; Peeta noticed it bore a signet ring of glittering emerald. He placed his goblet on the table beside him and, trembling, took it. “My uncle is correct, I know the steps to all the dances in the court.” She glanced at him as she lead him onto the dance floor. There were a few hushed whispers, but it was not unconventional or, she thought, incredibly inappropriate, for Katniss to dance with another courtier at her own birthday. She looked up at the dias, where Gale still sat. He seemed stiffer now, less at ease, though he still bantered dismissively with another of her ladies. Katniss held herself a little taller as the reached the dance floor.

Peeta was right - he could not dance. He seemed to be all feet and no grace. But his awkward stumbling made Katniss laugh, deep and throaty, and as they danced with each other, she watched him. He was a handsome man, with almost delicate features but a strong, powerful build, different than other painters she’d met and sat with. He glanced at their feet often, and when he did, she noticed his long eyelashes and the fullness of his mouth. Every time she laughed, his lips twitched up at the corners; despite the knowledge that he came close to stepping on her feet many times, she felt - for the first time since arriving - a deep sense of calm contentment. _It will be nice,_ she thought to herself, _to spend time with this man while he paints._ When the music ended, they stepped apart, and a large, gentle hand came to grip her waist. She looked up at Gale.

“It’s time,” he said. “Thank you for entertaining the princess.” His tone to Peeta was polite, but cool, and she glanced apologetically at the painter.

“Of course,” Peeta said. His eyes met Katniss’ and she felt that same flipping of her stomach and heart. “I will send for you in the morning, your majesty,” he murmured with a shallow bow. Katniss inclined her head.

“It will be a pleasure, I am sure,” she replied. Her heart heavy, she turned and allowed Gale to escort her back to the dias. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with her; as she looked up at Gale, his grey eyes and dark hair shining in the light from the torches hung all around the room, she felt despair at the idea of being married. Time was moving so slowly as she contemplated her life and the design of it. Would she forever bear the brunt of things she did not want to do? When her father died and her mother was lost to the whims of drink, she took the high road and cared for her sister. When Gale told her they were to be married when she was eighteen, she relented and agreed. When her mother insisted she have her portrait done as a final remembrance of her unwedded life, she consented. But Katniss couldn’t remember the last time she’d done anything that was for her.

“My friends and my honored guests,” Gale said loudly, his voice vibrating throughout the room, “we are honored to have you here tonight as our witnesses. I would first like to wish the princess a very happy eighteenth birthday.” Katniss inclined her head as polite applause swept through the room. “As you all know, Katniss and I have been betrothed for a long while,” Gale continued. “Tonight, I would like to announce our engagement. In two weeks time, the country shall witness the marriage of Her Royal Highness, Katniss Everdeen.” Cheers and loud applause echoed in the high-ceilinged chamber. A small smile pushed its way onto Katniss’ face. Gale gestured for her to step forward and speak.

“We shall be holding court here until that time,” she said, waiting for the crowds excitement to wane. “But the wedding shall take place in Capitál,” her voice quivered with nervous excitement as Gale looked at her, surprised, “a decision made most recently between myself and Her Majesty, the queen.” Emily inclined her head as more cheers erupted. Katniss glanced around the room and found her uncle’s stern gaze. He nodded softly and leaned to speak in an undertone to Peeta. She glanced again at the painter, and felt a thread of longing pulling in her chest and stomach. Two weeks would be a long time.


	3. Incongruent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss has a rough morning; her session with Peeta does not go as it should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi,   
> Just wanted to jump in here to say hello and thanks for reading this story. I've fallen in love with historical AU's, so when this one's over, expect to see another.   
> That's all, just be warned that Katniss is particularly pouty in this chapter.   
> Read on folks - Olive

Katniss woke early the morning after her birthday, her hands shaking with trepidation at the idea of spending hours in a chair with Peeta Mellark scanning her every movement. She thought he was funny and sweet, and could still feel his hands on her waist, and his fingers intertwined with hers. There was something about his eyes, and the way his voice sounded that captured her immediately; Katniss resolved to stay guarded. There was no use becoming overly comfortable with someone she would only know for two weeks. She didn’t call for help as she readied herself for dressing; she didn’t need Madge, or worse, Catherine, fussing over her as she worried herself with the details of her painting. Instead, she washed her face in the low basin beside the door, and patted it dry with the same linen cloth from the night before, then padded to the desk to brush her hair with her boar’s hair bristle brush. She’d leave it down - if he wanted it up, she could call Madge and have her pin it quickly, which was faster and easier than trying to remove the stays.

She ambled to the window and threw open the curtains, letting in the bright, white, early morning light. If she’d been able to open them, Katniss was sure she would hear birds chirping outside the paned glass. After a long moment of staring out at the wide, sunken garden, Katniss moved to the wardrobe where she had a variety of dresses. Her farthingales and petticoats, new shifts and stockings were all hung on one side of the cabinet, while her stays, kirtles, sleeves and scarves all hung on the other side. She picked out the pieces she could put on herself, and noted which color she wanted to wear today, knowing full well that only the sketch would happen, and limited color. She’d seen her mother painted enough times to know that when the time came to apply the final paint layer, the artist would choose the color of the subjects clothing, not the subject themselves.

A deep sigh escaped her as she carried her stay, petticoats, shift and stockings back to the bed. Farthingales were reserved for the most heinous of occasions, and Katniss refused to wear them otherwise. She stripped, and stepped in front of the mirror on the vanity, inspecting her form. It wasn’t often that Katniss felt the need to be especially critical of her own body, but as she weighed one of her breasts in her hand, she felt herself inadequate. She’d always been especially slender, with a flat belly and hips not made for birthing. Her strong legs and arms were only due to her constant desire for out-of-doors activities. Her small breasts and behind made for easy dress fittings, but never caused her to feel glamorous or comfortable. Sometimes she even wished she had the same hourglass figure her mother was so blessed with.

Katniss returned to the bed and gathered her slip off the floor, folding it up and setting it near her pillows. She pulled on a new shift and sat lightly on the edge of the bed to pull her woolen stockings up her legs. She secured them in place with a small, black ribbon just beneath each knee. A soft knock sounded at her door as she was deciding between petticoat and stay. Madge always knew the order - Katniss sometimes forgot.

“Enter,” said Katniss, smoothing her hand over the woolen skirt. Her sister slipped in, still dressed in her sleeping clothes, a light-colored, silk robe tied around her waist.

“I thought you would still be in bed,” Prim said as she tugged her robe more snugly around her skinny body. Katniss shook her head and picked up her stay.

“No,” Katniss said in an undertone. “But you could help me,” she offered, pulling the boned garment on, and picking up a thin cord from the bed. She offered it to Prim, who smiled and stepped towards her sister, accepting the black string and slipping it through the first loop, so the knot at the end met the inside of the stay. Katniss didn’t really need the stay - a kirtle would do just fine - but proper dress was proper dress, and she knew that her mother would be observing her every move in the castle over these two weeks. Prim threaded the string slowly through, back and forth across Katniss’ chest, pulling tight only when the thread ran short.

“Are you nervous?” Prim asked her sister. “I would be.”

“A bit,” Katniss agreed, and let out a deep breath. “However, Peeta seems to be quiet, so it should be easy.”

“You could always have conversation,” Prim suggested, though she knew she was tiptoeing over a sensitive subject. Katniss was shy in a way that didn’t always befit the princess, though Prim understood why. Having strangers constantly flitting in and out of your life, teaching you how to walk, talk, and behave would make anyone nervous of mistakes. While Prim knew she wasn’t perfect, there was a terrified air about her sister that made the younger Everdeen sad.

“Perhaps,” Katniss mused. “But perhaps he could just draw me and nothing will be said.” Prim laughed a little as she began tightening the string on Katniss’ stay. Katniss gripped one of the columns on the end of her bed, letting out a little gasp as Prim’s nimble fingers worked quickly over the cord.

“Katniss,” Prim chides after a moment. “You have to talk to someone eventually.”

“I have you and mother and Madge, what more should I want for?” Katniss bit her lip. “I will have a husband soon as well, and need to learn to speak with no one else.”

“You’ll be queen in the future,” Prim reminded her. Katniss pursed her lips and looked away from her sisters piercing stare.

“Yes, well, I’m sure by then…” Katniss trailed off. What was she sure of, exactly? That confidence would grow without attempting to speak. She shook her head. “I want nothing less than to have my portrait done. Why must I converse with the painter as well?”

“You didn’t seem to have trouble dancing with him last night,” Prim said. She moved to the bed and picked up Katniss’ red petticoat, handing it to her. Katniss threw it over her head and shimmied it down her body.

“Dancing,” she said, words muffled by the fabric, “is nothing like talking.” She turned so Prim could button it in the back. “It requires none of the same stimuli.” Prim glared at her sister and crossed her arms over her chest. Katniss shrunk beneath the gaze.

“Today you don’t have to speak, but you plan to sit in the room for hours at a time saying nothing, possibly for the whole two weeks?” Prim rolled her eyes at Katniss. “I strongly doubt your resolve, sister.” Katniss knew Prim was right - there was no use fighting it. But still, she felt strongly that not speaking, and especially not making eye contact with Peeta, whose eyes swam with currents she would like to dive into, would be good. She still felt uneasy about her marriage to Gale, even if he was one of her closest friends. She sat on the bed and patted the blankets beside her; Prim hopped up and wrapped her skinny arms around Katniss’ wiry frame.

“I love you very much, Prim,” Katniss said, kissing the top of her sister’s head. She could feel Prim smile against her stay.

“I’ll go get Madge. Have fun,” Prim winked, and she left the room, looking both ways before she did. Katniss could imagine Prim running on tiptoes back to her own bedroom, stopping only briefly to summon Madge from the chambermaid’s quarters. Madge would already be awake, waiting for Katniss to call on her for help. Katniss crossed back to her wardrobe and pulled out a dark red skirt, weighing it in her hands before replacing it and pulling out a pine-colored skirt. She collected it and the shirt that went with it. She could have finished getting ready on her own, but Madge’s knock on the door came. It startled her.

“Enter,” Katniss said, hands shaking. Madge slipped through the door, wearing a light-grey day dress with an apron. She watched her lady step forward, head bowed as was customary, and waited for her to lift her eyes. Instead, she took the silk garments from Katniss and lead her to the bed, saying nothing. Madge continued to avoid Katniss’ searching eyes as they stood beside the bed.

“I thought a morning alone before a day occupied may help calm my nerves. But my sister came and, well,” Katniss trailed off as Madge kneeled with the skirt open for Katniss to step into. She felt an odd tension as she stepped into the skirt, watching as Madge buttoned it in the back, just above where her petticoat fell. They dressed her silently, and Katniss felt alarmed by Madge’s silence; it was very unlike the woman to not attempt in some way to comfort Katniss, especially when she knew her nerves grew strong. Madge brushed the dress down with a coarse bristled brush and kept her head bowed. Katniss grew suspicious as Madge curtsied and made to leave without speaking or being excused. “I did not excuse you,” Katniss remarked. She watched Madge pause beside the door and leaned against the bed. “Madge,” Katniss murmured. “Look at me.”

Madge turned; her eyes were glazed with tears. For a moment, Katniss’ concern for her lady’s well being brought her out of herself. She rushed forward and clutched Madge’s hands in hers, which only caused the other woman to cry in earnest. Katniss frowned and moved her hands up to Madge’s wrists, noting the shaking of her hands and the flush of her cheeks.

“My lady, I can keep this from you no longer,” Madge said in an undertone. Katniss scoured her face and stepped back, shocked and alarmed at the guilt she saw there. “I have been with Lord Hawthorne these past two nights.” Katniss shook her head. “I beg your forgiveness.” Madge fell to her knees and clutched at Katniss’ skirts.

“I-” Katniss began, her voice thick with tears. She cleared her throat and looked away from the prostrate woman, blinking rapidly to try to clear the tears from her eyes. “Please leave me,” she finally choked out. “We can discuss this another day. You’re to sleep with the queen’s ladies this evening, and are not to attend dinner with the group.” Madge stood and nodded. Katniss looked at her, face a blank mask. “Beg for forgiveness another day.” Madge nodded again and curtsied low. Katniss said nothing, just turned and paced back to her mirror, where she sat and waited patiently for the other woman to leave. Her hands shook as the door closed and she screamed, throwing her hairbrush across the room.

#

Someone - one of her ladies, she wasn’t sure which - brought her breakfast and sat with her while she ate. Katniss felt a gnawing sort of nausea, and her food was tasteless and mealy - not that it wasn’t good, she was sure it was. It was just that nothing could be good with the evidence that your betrothed truly was running around like a dog in heat. She could imagine them splayed out on his bed, and each time the image popped into her mind, she felt a cold chill and tasted the tannic flavor of bile at the back of her throat. As she was finishing breakfast, one of Gale’s valet’s knocked and entered, telling Katniss that the artist was ready whenever she was. Katniss felt her nerves grow even stronger.

#

She knocked on the door to Peeta’s room, a hard resolve set within herself. He threw the door open and smiled genially at her. It was unusual for someone to look her in the eyes these days; since she’d turned sixteen, the most common thing she saw was the top of people’s heads, their backs, or their lips as they kissed her ring. Now, Peeta stepped to the side to let her in and looked back and forth down the hall. When he turned, he seemed confused.

“No escort?” he asked, taken aback.

“Do I need one?” Katniss shot back. “I felt no need to be protected.” Peeta nodded and made a face. She looked him over; the painter was wearing a simple linen smock which buttoned down half-way and tied at the neck, which was tucked into dark grey breeches. She’d only seen a man this informally dressed when her father would catch her wandering the castle at night.

“Is everything alright?” Peeta asked, trying to catch Katniss’ eye. “You seem out of sorts, my lady.” Her face flushed red and she nodded, but didn’t deign to further answer his question.

“Where would you like me?” she asked, looking around the sparsely furnished room. There was a chair beside the window and a short, round table in front of that. Before the screen, which she was sure hid his bed, a wide table for eating and a few chairs. Facing the window was an easel and a canvas covered by a long piece of dark linen, and a high stool with no back. Peeta pointed towards the chair beside the window, then placed a few fingers on Katniss’ elbow and escorted her over.

“Sit comfortably. It will take some time, and I want to really see what you look like.” Katniss frowned at him but nodded. She sat facing him, but felt stiff and awkward and wanted desperately to look out the window. Peeta watched her as she fidgeted in her lap and looked down, away from him. “Look out the window,” he said. His voice was commandeering, and it stirred something inside of Katniss she hadn’t ever felt before. She did as he was told, raising one eyebrow as she looked from outside to him. Peeta laughed. “Stay like that for a while, if you will, your majesty.” Katniss’ lips turned up at the corner. She’d never met a painter like Peeta - his ways were by far the most untraditional she’d seen in her lifetime. Often, the subject of the portrait she found would be stiff and awkward. Here, she felt comfortable, and it took her mind off the ideas planted there earlier.

“How long have you and Lord Hawthorne been betrothed?” asked Peeta as he began his sketch. Katniss cleared her throat and shot him an annoyed look. She’d thought it would be a quiet day of him drawing. She could hear the scratch of his graphite pen against the rough surface of the canvas.

“Fourteen years,” she murmured, trying not to move. The view of the garden was pleasant, albeit boring; activity waned as rain began to fall patchily from the sky.

“That is a long time,” Peeta chuckled, glancing around the painting at her. She seemed to be more beautiful each time he looked at her.

“Yes,” Katniss replied. Her tone was cool, and Peeta took a long breath. She was difficult to talk to. He glanced back and forth between her and the portrait; Katniss was still staring out the long window, her eyes tracking back and forth between the sky in the distance and those who moved to complete tasks between rainfall. The rain had been falling spottily since early this morning, which Peeta was glad for - the bright, white clouds overhead provided a diluted but consistent band of light over her face.

“What do you do when you’re not participating in royal duties?” Peeta asked, trying to push the conversation. Katniss shifted uncomfortably and glanced at him, her eyes narrowing in distrust.

“I thought you were meant to paint me, Mister Mellark,” snapped Katniss. “Not hold conversation.”

“I thought to make you more comfortable,” Peeta spluttered, feeling unnerved by her suddenly off putting attitude.

“Do not pretend to know how to comfort me,” Katniss whispered. “I have had an uncomfortable morning. Comforting me should be the last of your concerns.”

Peeta remained quiet until he couldn’t anymore. “ What happened?” he asked. Katniss looked at him and he quailled under the glare she gave him. Terrifying was the least of the words that shot to mind as her eyes scanned his face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she replied with a sneer. She looked back out at the grounds and settled her face on her hand, a few fingers coming to press her lips shut. Peeta watched her for a moment, and when she went to move he jumped.

“Stay like that,” he said, springing into action.

“Like this?” Katniss scoffed, a cold laugh that echoed around the stone walls.

“Yes,” Peeta’s tone was harsh. “Do not move, princess.” Katniss narrowed her eyes at him but remained still, sighing deeply.

“I don’t see why I must-”

“If you want me to paint you, then stop talking,” Peeta snapped without thinking. Katniss’ face flushed a light pink with embarrassment, and Peeta spoke again, backtracking. “You do not wish to hold conversation anyway, I believe.” Katniss pursed her lips.

“No,” she said, but laughed in any case. “You are very strange, Mister Mellark.”

“I have never painted the nobility before.” Peeta’s hand rushed over the canvas, trying to sketch Katniss quickly before her hand or lips grew tired.

“I can tell,” Katniss replied. She could feel her face heating up again, even as she promised not to get angry at a novice.

“What does that mean?” Peeta asked, glancing back at Katniss.

“You do not know how to speak to a princess,” Katniss said. She moved her hand slightly and heard him grumble, but didn’t put it back.

“And how should I?” Peeta’s questioning tone was cold.

“With respect,” Katniss replied. He scoffed. “Do you not believe the future queen deserves respect?” Katniss’ lip curled with anger. She wasn’t sure now what she’d seen in the painter the night before. Maybe it was the wine and the music, but now all she saw was an insolent man with a large ego.

Peeta took a moment to reply, and scratched away a little longer at the painting than she would have liked before speaking. “I believe you earn the respect you receive, and you have not earned any with me, princess.” He spit her title like venom, and she let her hand drop from her face.

“Speak to me as such again, I beg you.” Katniss had every mind to slap the smug smirk right off his face.

“I’ve gotten you speaking, have I not?” Katniss frowned and stood. Peeta sat back and shook his head at you. “You will just be extending our time together if you are to leave now.” Katniss glared and sat once more, staring out the window. Her heart was thumping with anger and she kept her eyes firmly on the garden. Peeta cleared his throat, but didn’t speak again for a long while. When he finally did, it was softly and without the same sharp tone as before. “I enjoyed our dance last night.”

Katniss ignored him and continued to look out the window.

“You’re very good at it - I’ve never been much for dancing.” She focused on Peeta’s pencil against the paper, the rain hitting the glass as it fell, the woodsy smell of turpentine. Anything but Peeta’s soft, low voice and his large, strong hands. “Maybe I would be better at dancing if I went out more-”

Katniss made a high-pitched sound from deep within her throat and stood. “Do you ever stop speaking? I was under the impression you were being paid to paint, not paid to speak. Your conversation bores me and I’ve had enough.” Katniss wanted to throw something again, her anger egged on by the image of Madge’s tear-stained face, but Peeta’s blue eyes followed her as she paced around the canvas and stood in front of him with her arms crossed. She looked him up and down. “You are a bad dancer, but fun and comical when you do badly, which makes up for the bruises on my toes.” She stepped back and looked at his shoes. “Your shoes need to be polished and your breeches brushed clean.” Glaring at him, Katniss walked around behind Peeta and brushed her hand over his neck, where his long hair tickled the collar of his shirt. “You need a haircut and,” she stood on the opposite side of him now and looked closer at his jaw, “to shave.”

“Is that all?” Peeta said as he licked the tip of his pencil and went back to sketching gently. Katniss watched and noted that he’d already defined the bridge of her nose, the curve of her lips, and the swoop of her hair over part of her face.

“N-no,” she said, finally turning back to face him, even though she stole glances every few seconds of the work he was producing. “You are rude and informal and treat me with none of the common courtesy required of a- a- a common man as you are.” Peeta set his pencil down and looked at her. He crossed his arms over his chest and she mimicked him briefly before letting them drop to her sides, hands in fists. “I will come back tomorrow if you learn how to greet a princess and most of all, a lady.” Katniss huffed and stormed out of Peeta’s chambers, slamming the door behind her. Peeta let his head fall back and looked up at the ceiling. “That woman will be the death of me,” he whispered, then turned back to the canvas, gave it a once over, and covered it again with a long piece of dark linen. Tomorrow he would start over. Tomorrow was another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going overseas in about a week! I'm trying to backlog some chapters so I can post in the airport, but I may just have to update everything when I get there.   
> Expect to see a new chapter of this on Monday or Tuesday. xx - Olive


	4. Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta talks to Haymitch about Katniss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi,   
> So with Home being over, I'm happy to say that I can focus on my other in progress fics right now. I've decided to post this today along with a story for a smaller fandom, because I want to give you guys something to read, since there won't be anymore updates to Home! Plus it's a shorter chapter, so I figured it wouldn't do any harm to post it.   
> I hope you like this chapter. xx -Olive

When Katniss arrived the following day, Peeta did as she instructed and greeted her properly at the door. His lips brushed gently against her ring and his thumb moved gingerly across her knuckles. She pulled her hand away and touched him lightly on the shoulder before stepping around him to sit in the same chair as the day before. Her mood, however, was unchanged. Peeta noticed she was sullen and dower, and stared mournfully out the window without glancing at him. While he didn’t attempt to ask the circumstances of her situation this day, he still felt obligated to sit in silence with her until she chose to speak. After a time, she glanced at him and nodded her head.

“I wish you to paint,” Katniss said in her same commanding voice. Peeta watched her for another long moment before he picked up his graphite pen and continued the sketch from the day before. The only sound to break the silence between them was the scratch of his pencil on the rough canvas sheet; at some point, Katniss began humming a song similar to that which they had danced to at her birthday celebration. Peeta smiled to himself as she closed her eyes and sang under her breath. When she realized he was listening, however, she cleared her throat and glared at him. 

“Why did you choose to be an artist?” Katniss asked. Peeta would have thought her curious if the tone had not been as unkind as it was. 

“My father and I had to travel to France for a funeral when I was very young,” Peeta said. “There are a great many beautiful paintings in the homes there.” 

“It seems a silly profession,” Katniss whispered; her tone was sour and forbidding.

“Why do you say that, princess?” Peeta asked, placing emphasis on the moniker. 

“Well,” she began, and swallowed hard, glancing from him to the window and back again. “It just seems that the work would be inconsistent. You could never have expected to gain such fame to paint a monarch.” Peeta nodded and gently wiped away at a stray line with his finger. He had captured her face and hair, the beginnings of her fingers and the curve of her wrist, but felt uneasy about the way she sat, stiff and unapproachable. He cleared his throat. 

“I worked in my father’s bakery for a long while before this, your highness,” Peeta replied. “They helped me,” he stood and walked to her, “with finances and provide me with living quarters. Your posture is-” he cut himself off to kneel in front of her. She stiffened and recoiled at his touch. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, drawing her hand away. 

“I require a change of your position,” Peeta said coolly. He extended his hand again and Katniss stood, looking offended. 

“Do not touch me,” Katniss said, her lip curled in anger and badly disguised disgust. She stepped around him and strode from the room, leaving the door hanging ajar behind her. Peeta’s forehead fell against the seat of her chair and he groaned in frustration. 

After the princess left, he ate lunch and gave himself an hour to roam the garden, a luxury he felt was well deserved after a frustrating morning with an uncooperative subject. In the garden, he found Haymitch sitting on a bench, a book in his lap and a snore in his throat. Peeta sat beside him and tapped him gently on the shoulder, then gave him a rough shake when the man didn’t wake up. Haymitch started, grunting and grumbling as he shook himself awake. 

“Peeta!” he said, leaning in close. Peeta leant away as the smell of alcohol washed off of the older man. Peeta rolled his eyes; it was not the first time the Earl of Coalsten had drunk more than his belly could handle. The secluded area reminded Peeta of the parts of Seamme where he would often find Haymitch lounging, trying to wait out the alcohol. However, Peeta felt that the queen may frown on her brother being booze-weary while celebrating his niece. He threw one of Haymitch’s arms over his shoulder and stood him up. 

“Let’s get you back to my room where we can wash your face,” Peeta said, “and possibly the rest of you.” He finished the sentence under his breath, so that by the time Haymitch had responded to the first part, they’d already surpassed the second. Once in Peeta’s quarters, he thrust the elder man into Katniss’ chair by the window and went to wet the linen cloth he’d been using to dry his face. The water was cool on his skin. He rung the cloth out and got back to Haymitch. The dark-haired man jumped at the contact and glowered up at Peeta. 

“What are you trying to do, kid?” he asked harshly, then looked around. “Lord, this place is a mess.” He was right - art supplies littered the short table that sat in front of the chair Haymitch was in, as well as the larger table which took up most of the room. Peeta’s clothes were laid haphazardly on a chair. Peeta shrugged. 

“I’m not trying especially hard to impress anyone,” Peeta replied. 

“I believe you,” Haymitch scoffed, batting away Peeta’s hand and the cool cloth with it. “I’m fine, jus’ leave me alone.” 

“You’re drunk, old man, now shush,” Peeta said brusquely. Haymitch rolled his eyes and leaned back in the chair, letting Peeta run the linen over his hot, drunken face. 

“How is your work coming?” Haymitch asked. Peeta laid the cloth across the other’s forehead and walked back to the pitcher. He felt the frustration that had bloomed over the two days of work flare up within him again. 

“She is unagreeable,” he said, pouring water from the pitcher into a small tin cup. Haymitch accepted the cup of water and took a long draft when Peeta walked back with it. He crooked an eyebrow at Peeta, whose previously well contained anger exploded out of him. “The princess is- is- she is an infuriating woman, the likes of whom I have never met before in my life. She asks impertinent questions and rudely, too. Plus, she is quite possibly the worst conversationalist I have ever had the distinct displeasure of meeting. I believed her amiable when we met two nights ago, but I find her presence grating.” Haymitch watched as Peeta sat hard in his own chair and glared at the half-finished sketch. Haymitch laughed at the expression on the younger man's face. 

“Katniss,” said Haymitch ruefully, “is painfully shy. She’s never been much for the spotlight.” 

“She is the Princess of Panem,” Peeta scoffed. “How fucking shy can she really get?” Haymitch scratched behind his ear and stood. 

“I want you to understand something, boy,” Haymitch intoned, his voice a little bitter and terse. Peeta swallowed and nodded. “That girl has had a hard upbringing. You may think the monarchy easy and doted upon - but you don’t understand the nobility as well as you may think you do.” He cleared his throat and stepped forward to gently grip Peeta’s shoulder, kneeling beside his chair. “When James died, Emily disappeared, and Katniss was left picking up the scraps. She raised her sister as much as the wetnurse did, and taught her better than any tutor could. Her hand is being forced, now.” Peeta rolled his eyes. 

“She’s to marry a nobleman, whose worth is greater than most of Panem,” Peeta drolled, shaking out of Haymitch’s grip and standing himself; he began pacing his quarters. Haymitch stood back to watch him. “I have little sympathy. She had help with her sister as she has help now - she wasn’t alone.” 

“Peeta, you don’t understand,” Haymitch said. He moved back to the chair beside the window and watched him walk. “You were raised by a baker, yes?” Peeta grunted in affirmation. “And trained by tutors, yes?” He nodded. “You had two brothers and a mother who, despite her obvious flaws, wanted you to succeed and encouraged your painting. Correct me if I am wrong.” 

“You are not,” Peeta sighed. He paused in his pacing and turned to face Haymitch, whose own face was lined with concern and, if Peeta was reading it correctly, sadness.

“The princess was raised by strangers, as most are. Her mother allowed wet nurses and tutors to raise her daughters, wanting nothing more than to provide for her country. When James died, and Emily’s spirit faded, Katniss was left with the responsibility of providing some sort of maternal care for her sister.” Peeta frowned as Haymitch’s voice grew thick, but the elder man cleared his throat and moved on. “Lord Hawthorne remains unfaithful to the princess, though that is just suspicion, but Katniss feels herself betrayed by his actions.” Peeta felt disgusted by the notion - a nobleman sneaking around behind his betrothed’s back. He would never do such a thing, and especially not to someone as beautiful… Peeta shook away the thought, but felt shame well up in him all the same at his attitude toward the princess. “It’s true her social skills leave something to be desired, but the last common person she spoke with was her father, and that was many years ago. Granted,” Haymitch chuckled, “he fit into the nobility better than some.” Haymitch watched as Peeta’s eyes lit up in surprise. 

“I didn’t know the King Consort was a common man,” Peeta said, confused. “How was that allowed?” Haymitch sighed and frowned. He seemed frustrated and exhausted, but at least more sober. 

“It was all hushed up to keep my parents from looking too vulnerable.” Haymitch rolled his eyes. “No monarch has married outside of Panem for years, but Emily was insistent. It was either James or she abdicate the throne to our cousin, Alma Coin. My parents would have none of that,” Haymitch paused and watched Peeta taking the new information in. “She got her way and forever changed the way the monarchy was run. Part of me wonders if Emily wouldn’t allow Katniss to marry someone else if she fell in love.” 

Peeta scanned Haymitch’s face, and felt a wave of sadness roll over him, as well as confusion. “Why is she being made to marry a man she does _not_ seem to love, then?” asked Peeta. Haymitch shrugged. 

“Emily gave no explanation. It was James’ idea in the first place. Perhaps to honor his memory.” Haymitch shrugged. “I feel the princess has resigned herself to it.” Peeta looked out the window at the garden. Something struck him as strange about the idea, but he shook it off. Katniss was fun, he had to admit that, and her laughter had been boisterous and contagious. But to be married off to a man who remains unfaithful with her knowledge; it seemed most unkind. Peeta felt poorly about his words and his outright dismissal of the princess. He glanced at Haymitch, who was watching him with a gentle expression. “You were never to know these things,” Haymitch sighed. “It was not my place to tell you, but I felt you deserved to know at least the history of her attitude. It is not you that is the sole cause of her incalculable disquiet, though I expect your unfamiliar presence does nothing to help.” 

“I expect that her majesty is very lonely,” Peeta murmured. 

“You would likely be correct in that assumption.” Haymitch sighed and stood, placing the cup of water down on the table in front of him. Though he swayed a little, Peeta felt confident in his near sobriety. Giving him a curt nod, Haymitch side-stepped Peeta and made for the door. 

“How do I get to know the princess?” Peeta asked, a little desperately, as Haymitch’s hand came to grip the handle of the door. The older man chuckled and looked over his shoulder. 

“You will find out, I’m sure. You managed to befriend me.” Haymitch swung the door open and stepped out, leaving Peeta alone with his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter. Your feedback has been amazing and I love reading it. Keep reading, folks and have a wonderful day today! xx -Olive


	5. Exhaustion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss confronts Madge; Gale and Thom talk women.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the chapter <3

Katniss sat at her vanity, staring at her pale face in the mirror. She had felt despondent the whole day, her conscience flipping back and forth between her rude language in Peeta’s quarters and Madge’s admittance from the day before. She knew it wasn’t Peeta’s fault that her fiance would not remain faithful to her, but his voice flared something inside her she couldn’t quite comprehend and didn’t want to fall party to. When he went to touch her, she’d snapped. Of course she had. Still, his flippant attitude and rude tone stung Katniss when she thought too long on them. 

However, there was something in his eyes that reminded her of the morning she’d spent on the coast, with the sea on her skin and in her hair. The air had smelled so clean even with the brine of ocean water buzzing in her nose. The cliff was high; as she’d looked down from it, she’d imagined the fall into the icy sea below her, both thrilling and horrifying. Peeta said he’d been to France. She wondered if he’d ever seen the ocean, and the blue, dark waters that looked so like his eyes - fierce, intense, and forever. She shook away the thought as her girls entered with Prim’s. Her sister slipped onto the bench beside her as Katniss watched Madge from across the room. Part of Katniss wished she hadn’t allowed the woman back into her quarters. The dark haired girl talked and laughed and tried to avoid Katniss’ eyes. 

“Do you wish to speak on what bothers you, sister?” asked Prim quietly over the rush of noise that filled Katniss’ chambers. Katniss shook her head and continued to watch the room without speaking. She felt the anger of Madge’s betrayal like a whip as she glanced away from her, to Rue and back again. Something in her features read guilt; Katniss wanted nothing more than to slap her. She wasn’t even sure why she was feeling this anger and jealousy. Perhaps on cause of her entrusting Madge with her every whim, wish and desire. She knew setting all her store in Madge had been a mistake for a number of reasons. She’d never expected this, though. Only Madge knew the truth of her feelings for Gale, and she had stolen that truth and used it for only God knew how long. She leaned in close to her sister. 

“I fear I may have offended the artist,” she whispered. Prim’s lips twitched up at the corners. 

“I saw him in the garden with our Uncle today. He seemed in good spirits,” Prim replied. “It may help if you were to apologize to Mister Mellark,” prim continued, glancing at Katniss. “You can be cold.” 

“I am bothered by a matter which is unwise to speak on,” Katniss whispered. “One which could lose me a good friend.” 

“Perhaps speaking to this… friend,” Prim whispered back, watching her sister with wide, speculative eyes, “could help you to process whatever loss you fear you may face.” Katniss nodded as a knock came at the door. 

“Enter,” she called, and felt relief at the sight of the dinner service. She moved to the table in the center of the room. Dinner was served to the group, who sat and ate, still abuzz with conversation. Katniss watched Madge the whole time, feeling herself growing more and more unsure of her ability to remain in the woman’s company after. Her mind was full of the terrible things she wanted to say to Madge, and her food was tasteless and mealy. The longer she watched the woman, the more she was reminded of someone, though Katniss couldn’t quite pin who. 

#

When dinner finished, the girls were dismissed and Prim shuffled out among them, though not before shooting Katniss a significant look. Madge was the last of the girls to leave, her arms spread wide to shuttle them from Katniss’ room. Katniss cleared her throat before she was able to step into the hall, and she paused without looking back. 

“Stay,” said Katniss in a low voice. Her tone was dangerous and cold, and she stayed in her seat at the head of the table, watching the woman turn and close the door. Madge kept her eyes on the floor. “You’ve betrayed my confidence, Madge.” 

“My lady-” Madge started, looking up. Katniss raised a hand as she stood, and Madge fell silent. She could see her trembling, and as she watched, Katniss felt a distinct thrill of pity run through her. They had both been tricked, it seemed, by a man intent on having his cake and eating it too. Her heart softened as she watched her scared friend, knowing that her next words could effectively end the woman’s life. 

“How long has this been going on?” Katniss asked.

Madge swallowed and her eyes scanned over Katniss’ face. “Four years, my lady. Since I was eighteen and he sixteen.” Her voice was thick with emotion. Katniss nodded and finally pinned who Madge reminded her of: Maysilee Donner. Their hair color was different, Madge’s darker and her face fuller, but the resemblance of aunt and niece was there. Her anger split away from her devastation, and Katniss was able to differentiate between the hurt she felt looking at her eldest friend and that which she felt of her fiance. It was not Madge she was angry with. It was Madge she understood. 

“Tell me of it,” Katniss said finally as she stepped in front of the mirror. “As you help me dress down for bed.” Madge sniffed and looked up at Katniss. 

“W-what?” she stuttered through her tears. 

“Tell me what it is to be,” Katniss swallowed hard against tears forming, “intimate.” She ran a hand up her arm and over her throat, finally bringing it to cup the back of her neck. “I plead with you, do not fault me for my anger yesterday, I cannot get undressed on my own.” Madge started to protest and Katniss spoke up again. “Come,” she said, gesturing towards her. “I’ll unpin your hair after, should you wish.” Katniss watched Madge hesitate then walk to stand behind the princess. She began removing the pins and Katniss’ hair slowly fell from the knot on the back of her head. Madge reached around Katniss for her hairbrush. 

“Do you love him?” Katniss asked as Madge drew the brush over Katniss’ long tresses, smoothing them out. She stared at the older woman in the mirror; though her memory of Madge’s aunt had changed Katniss’ anger to sadness, she still felt unsure of their relationship. 

“I believe so,” Madge replied, setting the brush down. Katniss stepped to the side and pulled Madge forward so she could take down the woman’s hair. She kept her eyes averted. Katniss gathered the pins in her hand and let Madge’s hair fall over her face and down her back. “I can finish in my room, my lady,” Madge said, turning. Katniss ignored her and placed the handful of pins on her vanity. 

“If you are not too opposed to the idea, I would like for you to stay, as you did when we were children,” Katniss whispered. 

“My lady,” Madge bit back tears as they started towards Katniss bed. She reached forward to begin unclipping her shirt. “Are you not upset?” 

“I am,” Katniss said with a short breath, “more angry than I have ever been.” She slipped her arms out of the shirt and reached around to unclip her skirt. “But I remember when your aunt fell pregnant with my uncle’s child. I do not wish to lose my best friend over a man I do not love. My mother did Miss Donner wrongly, sending her away.” Katniss brightened. “Stay and tell me what it is to be in love, and perhaps I can finally complain of this painter to a listening ear.” Madge laughed, though tears slipped from her eyes. Katniss looked away, trying to give Madge a private moment as she undid the clips on the front of her friend’s shirt and slipped it off. Katniss gathered the discarded garments and laid them carefully across the bench in front of her vanity and turned back to Madge, who was crying silently into her hands. Katniss undid Madge’s skirt and held the edge carefully as the woman stepped out of it, wiping her tears and laughing again. 

“My lady,” Madge said, turning to face Katniss. They stood facing each other in their petticoats and stays, and Katniss could feel tears forming in her eyes and a tightness in her throat. “I do love you so.” Katniss laughed and allowed a few tears to fall from her eyes as she brought her friend forward into a hug. If she could learn of love, perhaps she too could one day find it within herself to fall. 

#

Gale took another long draft of wine and laughed from where he sat on the edge of his bed. His booming guffaw split the otherwise silent room. Thom laughed with him, though lines of discomfort were clearly etched on his face. 

“But what if the princess _is_ to learn of it, my lord?” Thom pressed delicately, trying not to rouse Gale’s defenses. “She is her majesty’s most dear friend.” 

“Katniss?” asked Gale, and he laughed again. “That woman is so shy and obtuse, it’s a shock she’s even agreed to be married in the first place.” Gale’s sharp features were smug. “She won’t even speak to the painter, though I doubt he is any sort of master conversationalist in the first place.” 

“You cannot deny his charm, my lord,” Thom insisted. “Have you had a chance to speak to the man?” Gale shook his head. 

“Not since his arrival here,” Gale took another sip of his wine and stood, wandering to the pitcher of wine on his table and refilling his goblet. “I’m sure a painter of his assurity is used to his subjects fawning over him. It must be quite a shock to receive Katniss in their place.” Thom laughed uncomfortably. 

“I have only had positive experiences with the princess, my lord,” he replied. “In fact, I find her to be quite amenable.” 

“And she is, when things are going her way,” Gale coughed and leaned against the table. He swayed slightly where he stood, obviously past the point of sobriety. “But she is unlike her maids. Her friendship has been a kindness to me… but I fear she may be incapable of the,” Gale took a significant pause, “more physical side of a relationship.” 

“What do you know of that, my lord?” Thom asked sarcastically. Gale shook his head in mock admonishment. 

“One mustn’t ask presumptive questions without expecting to receive an obscene answer,” Gale said. “In any case, this painter - do you really think him charming?”

Thom nodded. “I’ve spoken to him several times before this week. He lives in Seamme. I’ve run across him in the bakery there.” Thom thought for a moment. “He is quite kind, my lord.” 

“Am I not kind?” Gale said with a smirk. 

“Perhaps,” Thom said, “but not as he is.” 

“If you find him so charming, perhaps you would find him a better bedfellow than your wife,” Gale said sarcastically, chuckling at his own wit. Thom laughed raucously. 

“Sacrilege, my lord,” Thom said as he threw his head back. A yawn escaped Gale. 

“But even still,” Gale said. His lip curled into a slight sneer, and he groaned. “Katniss is a fine woman.” His tone implied something different, and Thom frowned at him. 

“Do you know a finer one?” he asked. 

Gale gazed into the distance for a long moment, then sighed. “Perhaps not in station or breeding,” he finally said. “Women are a treat.” 

“That they are,” Thom said, sighing in pleasure. “I always try to remember the luck I earned when I was granted my wife’s hand.” Gale gazed at the older man, jealousy crossing his features for barely a second before it disappeared. 

“Yes,” he said. “I consider myself quite lucky, marrying a very close, dear friend.”

“Then is it not good you are to be married in so short a time?” Thom questioned. 

“If it is not obvious, I am distinctly overjoyed to be engaged to the princess,” Gale said with a wicked smirk. “I only wish it were sooner. I’ve yearned for her a long while, Thom.” 

“This I know,” Thom said. “I wish you would give up this ‘finer woman’. I fear it may impinge upon the already fragile state of the princess.” Gale gave him a sly smile. 

“Until Katniss is my wife, I feel no such desire to relinquish that which I feel is mine.” Thom sighed and nodded, then yawned. Gale watched his friend finish his goblet of wine and tilted his head. “Maybe you are right, though,” he said softly. “For all my fears of her perceived inabilities, I want nothing less than to hurt her.” Thom glanced at Gale and then down into his goblet. The older man didn’t know how to respond or react, and thought for once it best if he remain silent. 

“I believe it is time for me to retire to my own bed chamber. My wife arrives with the baby tomorrow, and I wish to be well rested and not wine sodden.” He rose and inclined his head to Gale. “Goodnight, Gale.” 

“Good night, Thomas.” Gale stretched and set his goblet on the table, his mind full of Madge. He could think of nothing but her pale skin hovering over him, sweat drenched and expansive, for his hands to wander and take. Madge had whispered of her love for him before slipping out of his quarters, and he rolled the words over and over in his head, feeling through them. Did he love her in return? He had thought his love for the princess all consuming, though obviously not enough to satisfy those earthly desires all creatures craved. After Thom left, he stripped off his clothes and thought again of Madge’s dark hair falling over her face as she rutted against him. He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to change Madge to Katniss, but felt the transition awkward and stilted. He’d never known her like that, and if he was being honest, he’d never wanted to. If it were not for the benefit of the station, Gale knew he may not be marrying the princess at all. But these were unfit thoughts. 

No, it would not do to revel in these treacherous thoughts of Katniss or such foolhardy feelings as love. He felt he had already tempted fate enough by employing Madge to his bed each night they shared household space. He would not call for her tonight. That would assure Madge of her place within himself. In any case, as Thom said, he was to be married and needed to wean himself from her. Ten days was closer than he could imagine. He could almost taste the new life he saw unfolding before him. 

Still, Gale couldn’t shake the words Thom had spoken to him; Peeta did seem the charismatic type, full of the energy and complementary nature that na artist so possessed. The long hours would have to be filled with something; Katniss’ resolve was not that strong. He knew Katniss’ father to be a common hunter when the queen had married him. Could it be possible that Katniss would push against this marriage on the grounds that she had never met enough men to know if it was love? Gale rolled his eyes at the thought; it sounded like something Thom or Haymitch would say to scare Gale into cleaning up his act. Katniss was not foolish enough to end an engagement as long as theirs. 

As Gale slid under the covers, he felt for the first time since starting his affair with Madge, a touch of guilt for hurting his best, oldest friend. While it wouldn’t hurt anyone if Katniss never found out, how would he keep something like that from her for the rest of their lives? He did love Katniss… just, perhaps not in the way he was meant to. But he wouldn’t give Madge up. He couldn’t give Madge up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi,   
> I know it's been a while since I posted anything, but I'm trying to get super ready to go on this trip I'm taking. I'll defo be able to post at least a few times while I'm there, but I don't know about every day. The challenge I set myself was incredibly fun and definitely pushed me to write more, but I'm spending three weeks with my best friend and so I just may not have time!   
> If you're interested in seeing my trip, follow my google blog, linked here: https://olivetravellingsolo.blogspot.com/
> 
> I'm so excited for where this story is going, and I hope you are too. Keep it fucking radical my dudes and dudettes and neutral-dude-friends.


	6. Admittance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss' attitude changes; Peeta has a run in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi!  
> This will be it for a couple days - I'm gonna be spending the rest of the day today packing and cleaning, then the next 28 hours and 55 minutes travelling. I want a day to adjust, so the next post you'll see will come to you either Wednesday or Thursday! 
> 
> For now, happy reading. xx -Olive  
> PS Please read the note at the bottom for some important stuff!

Katniss woke with her legs tangled with Madge’s and the sun in her eyes. They’d stayed up until long past when she would usually have been asleep, talking and debating and laughing. Katniss told Madge of her fears of marriage and Madge had consoled her. When she looked at Madge’s sleeping form now, curled so small towards her, she felt a weight fall on her chest. Would she ever be able to trust her friend again?

Fridays were commonly busy days at home, with the whole court rushin to prepare activities for the weekend and dinner for the night. Here, the estate still sounded quiet and still, even with the sun already high in the cloudy sky. She ran a hand over her face and sat up, gently shaking Madge to wake her. The woman woke with a start and looked to Katniss in confusion. 

“Oh,” she whispered, breaths slowly evening out. “My lady.” 

“Good morning,” Katniss said as she swung her legs out of the bed and sat perched on the edge of the mattress. Four days had passed already; the next ten could not come fast enough. She was already antsy from the time she’d spent here. She felt Madge sit up in the bed behind her, and turned to look at her friend. Something had broken between them. Even as Katniss tried to smile at Madge, she felt the tension. 

“Did you sleep well?” Katniss asked Madge, who nodded and reached a hand out. Katniss grasped it, albeit reluctantly. 

“And you, my lady?” Madge asked. 

“Fine,” Katniss replied. Madge watched Katniss for another moment then rose from the bed. She pulled the covers back over her rumpled area and gathered her dress and stayes from the bench. Katniss watched her, then hopped down and walked to her wardrobe, where she pulled out one of her dressing gowns and offered it to Madge. 

“I cannot-” Madge began to protest. 

“You will be back, I assume,” Katnis insisted, shaking the garment at her. “I would rather my ladies not be seen in their night things.” Madge gave Katniss a sad smile and accepted the robe, pulling it up her arms over her slip. Katniss pushed back her long hair and went back to bed. “If any of the other women are up, please have them alert Mister Mellark that I should be along shortly.” 

Madge nodded and, arms full of cloth, left the bedroom. Katniss pressed her face into her hands and allowed a low, long sob to escape her. The quiet room felt like it was closing in on Katniss, and even though she knew she could only allow herself to cry for a short time, she felt the weight of it all crashing down around her, and struggled to draw in deep breaths through the shed of tears. 

#

Later, much later than she wanted, Katniss knocked on Peeta’s door. She intended on apologizing to the painter for behavior not entirely directed at him. Even so, the apology felt awkward in her head and she tried to even her breathing before the door opened. When it did swing open, Peeta once again lowered himself into a bow. She rolled her eyes and felt the guilty swoop in her stomach again. Katniss touched him on the shoulder. 

“You do not have to do that,” she said quietly as he rose. “In fact, I would prefer you not.” Confusion painted his face. 

“You majesty, I believe it was you who said-” 

“I’m aware of what I said,” Katniss replied, a little too sharply. She drew in a long breath but didn’t attempt to move past him. After tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she sighed and continued. “I’d like to apologise for my behavior these last two days.” Peeat stared at her curiously, then nodded once and stepped back for her to enter. She pointed towards the chair she’d sat in over the last two days as she stepped over the threshold. 

“If you would be so kind,” Peeta said, sitting behind the large canvas. Katniss inclined her head and perched lightly on the edge of her seat. PEeta glanced at her and sighed. “Your majesty, I require-” 

“I believe my fiance has been unfaithful to me,” Katiss blurted out. She watched shock register on Peeta’s face, who looked unsure how to respond. Katniss plowed ahead. For four years he’s carried on an affair with my first maid. I know not how it has escaped my-” 

“My lady,” Peeta said, interrupting her rambling words as he rose. He approached her slowly, as if approaching a wild animal. She allowed him to kneel in front of her and take her hands in his. “How long have you known this?” 

“I learned of it two mornings ago,” Kantiss whispered. She stared into Peeta’s eyes, fascinated by the blue of them, and the quiet she’d managed to create with him already. Somehow, Katniss felt she could trust Peeta, even if she hardly knew him. “But perhaps I suspected longer.” 

“You have my sorrow,” Peeta whispered. He gave her a searching look then brought her knuckles to his lips, whereupon he placed a gentle kiss. Katniss’ insides boiled with bitter longing. She extracted her hands and carefully smoothed one over his face, then nodded. 

“I would like a distraction,” she said, trying to shift her mood. “Any distraction. Shall you draw and tell me some tale of you?” Katniss bit her lip. “Please?” She mouthed the word, so it came out nearly soundless. Peeta nodded and stood. She watched him go, feeling tangled by the swooping in her stomach when she looked back down at the hands he had just kissed. 

“What,” he asked, settling back down to flip the dark linen over his work, exposing the still nearly bare canvas. “Would you like to know, princess?” His lips twitched up at the last word, and Katniss felt another thrill of longing travel along her spine. 

“I would like to know why you paint,” Katniss said with a nod. “This time with genuine curiosity.” Peeta laughed. She’d heard the laugh on her birthday and now craved it like sleep. It was a wild, mischievous laugh, full and intoxicating. 

“Painting stops time,” he said, picking up his pencil and glancing at her. “You can look at a painting and see one moment forever. Of course there is always the chance of notoriety or fame, but I would much rather look at something or-” he stuttered to a stop and Katniss glanced at him, catching the blush rising up his face. “Or someone,” he started again, “someone beautiful and worth stopping time for.” Katniss swallowed and shifted in her seat. There was a pleasant silence in the room while Peeta worked. 

“I have always admired painting from afar,” Katniss said after some time, her voice a little dreamy. 

“Lucky for you, you will have the chance to see my work up close,” Peeta teased.

“I hold no preconceived expectations,” Katniss laughed. “I know not what to expect from you.”

“Good,” Peeta exaggerated a relieved sigh, “I did not want you to think I had hoodwinked my way here.” 

“What do you mean?” Katniss asked. He looked at her, watching her to glean more details. Peeta sketched the run of her throat down to where her chest was covered by a voile scarf; he traced the line of her arm to her cheek, and the soft curve of her bosom beneath her scarf and stays. Finally, he answered her question. “I am no stranger to art, princess, and so I have often seen portraits far superior to my own. I’ve not travelled to France or Italy in a long while, but I assure you, the painters beyond our borders are far greater than I.” Their eyes met, and Kantiss hummed a short note before looking out the window. “Allow me to ask you something now, your highness.”

She inclined her head. “Ask,” she said. 

“What do you do when you are not acting the role of princess?” Peeta asked, still sketching the line of her dress. 

“I am always in this role,” Katniss commented, and she was surprised to find her tone sour and cold. 

“Well, when you have free time. You do get time away from the courts, I assume?” 

Katniss smiled and nodded. “I read often, and write to my relatives that do not live in Capitál. Sometimes my girls and I will take walks in the garden, or else I will ride my horse around the yard. It is dependant on the day, and the weather. When the summer comes again, I will have my archery practice.” Peeta raised his eyebrows at her. “Oh yes,” she said teasingly. “If we have a spare moment, I will have to show you before we part.” 

“Perhaps you will.” Peeta set his pencil down and stood, stretching. His back was growing tired and there was still something about the princess that was off. “What is your favorite color, your highness?” He asked as he moved closer to her. She ruffled her hair while thinking, sweeping it all over one shoulder then back again. 

“Green,” she said finally, looking up at him. “As the trees, there.” She pointed to the closely forested area just beyond the grounds. She paused, biting her lip, and he tried to memorize her expression when she looked back and smiled at him. “What is yours?” 

“Orange, as the sunset,” he said. Katniss smiled wider as he crouched before her. “Your majesty will have to forgive me, but I require a slight change of your person.” Katniss eyed him suspiciously then nodded and moved her hands to grip the arms of the chair. He moved her skirts, arranging the creases and the way it fell; Peeta tugged gently at the scarf, pulling it carefully from beneath her shirt and waffled with it for a moment before stuffing it into his pocket. Katniss laughed, covering her mouth as she closed her eyes. 

“I've seen you once before this week,” Peeta said softly as he stood, gathering her hair to let it fall all over one shoulder in a graceful sweep. She looked at his as his fingers brushed over the back of her neck. 

“That does not surprise me,” she said as he spent more time than necessary tucking her hair behind her ear and arranging it in the front. 

“Before I moved to Seamme,” Peeta said, now just fussing with the edge of her skirt as he crouched down again, “I worked with my father at his bakery in Capitál, and sometimes we would together deliver special breads or pastries to the castle.” He paused and swallowed. “I have forever thought your eyes blue, princess.” The corners of Katniss’ mouth twitched up and it clicked in her head where she had seen him before, if only briefly. On Prim’s twelfth birthday, she had wanted the small, neatly decorated cakes from the bakery across town. He had delivered them with a staunch, portly man she know understood to be his father. 

“They are grey, my lord,” Katniss said, the title slipping out without her meaning to say it. They both blushed as he stood. 

“That looks better, my lady,” he said softly. 

#

Whens she excused herself for the day, Katniss reached out with her left hand instead of her right, which bore her signet ring. Peeta placed a tender kiss on her bare knuckles and withdrew the scarf from his pocket, attempting to hand it back. Katniss merely inclined her head politely and strode from the room, the door falling closed behind her. 

#

Peeta had taken a keen fondness to the garden Lord Hawthorne’s estate kept, and decided to sit in the shade of one of the larger, flowering trees and draw. At first, he sketched simple things, just to practice: a set of darkly narrowed eyes, a pair of hands in prayer, and then without even thinking, he began sketching Katniss’ face. 

She always had a relatively severe look about her, brows pulled in just enough to form a crease; he had made the princess smile today, though, and found himself tracing the curl of her lips and the raise of her brow instead. The painting would be serious enough. Peeta needed something softer to remember her, and these moments with her. He wasn’t even sure where the intensity of his feelings grew from, but they became stronger each time he saw her, even despite the unpleasantness of their first meetings. His pencil moved over the paper and he thought of the things she had revealed to him today. Her scarf felt as though it was burning a hole in his pocket. 

“Mister Mellark,” came a voice to his left. He looked up and quickly maneuvered his drawing pad from view, then stood.

“Lord Hawthorne,” he said, giving the slightly taller man a perfunctory bow. Knowing what he did, Peeta felt a sick, swooping sensation in his stomach at the sight of the lord. Hawthorne smiled cheerfully at him and tried to see past him to the drawings. 

“Some light artwork in this pleasant afternoon?” asked the earl eagerly. 

“Just practicing, my lord,” Peeta said, folding his hands behind his back to hide their angered shaking. “I shouldn’t want my work to be unsatisfactory.”

He nodded. “Of course not.” After a long and uncomfortable silence, Hawthorne found his voice again. “I hear the princess has been troublesome. I fear that your painting may be delayed, and in turn the wedding. It is a week from this Monday, you remember.” 

Peeta bit back the retort that immediately sprang forth and smiled. “I’ve found the company of the princess to be amiable, my lord, if not altogether pleasant. I see no reason for delay of the painting or, in turn, your nuptials.” Lord Hawthorne gave Peeta a curious once-over and tried to look at his drawing again. Peeta side-stepped in front of it. “My lord will have to forgive the privateness of my actions; the practice sketches are meant for no eyes but my own.” 

“Of course,” Hawthorne replied, giving him a tight lipped smile. “So, I have your assurance that the painting should be finished by the Sunday following this?” 

“You have it, my lord,” Peeta said coolly. 

Hawthorne nodded once more. “Well, enjoy the sun as it wanes.” He squinted into the distance. “I fear rain for Sunday, which may wash out our plans for a hunt.” He smiled at Peeta gain. “Good day, Mister Mellark.” 

“And to you, my lord,” Peeta said. He let out a relieved sigh when the earl disappeared around a hedge and sat back down on the bench, feeling disheartened. Peeta knew neither he or Haymitch had spread news of Katniss’ earlier intolerances, and Peeta felt sure he knew who did. His anger on behalf of the princess grew, and he picked up his sketchbook. There was no use trying to draw when angry, however, and he strode back into the manor, feeling hot, belligerent, and uncomfortable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> I hope y'all are enjoying reading this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it.  
> Two things: I posted a new _smutty _fanfiction yesterday that I would love for y'all to look at. It might not be everyone's cup of tea: Haymitch/Katniss, anyone?_  
>  I also have started a travel blog where I will be posting all about my trip. If you wanna care about me in real life, go check it out. If you don't, I don't blame you (I'm sort of boring). Anyway, copy this link: olivetravellingsolo.blogspot.com into your browser and give me a snoop. You might even catch a glimpsy of my face! _
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> _Anyway, new chapter up soon. I'm gonna get so much writing done in this airport adventure._  
>  Love you all so much, thanks for reading and commenting. Your kudos, comments, and other such wonderfulness make me fell so very loved. Nothing would be the same without my readers.  
> Stay fucking radical. xx -Olive


	7. Creative Deviance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss and Peeta talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! <3 Hope you enjoy.  
> PS, if you notice any typos in this chapter, please let me know asap - I didn't have time to proof it once more before posting.

Katniss yanked the scarf off her neck and balled it up in her fist before she raised it to knock on Peeta’s door. He answered without a smile, and didn’t wait for her to enter before he strode back to the stool in front of his canvas. Katniss frowned and remained frozen by the door, which hung open in his stead. There was a sick strong tension surrounding him, and as Katniss opened her mouth to speak, he cleared his throat impatiently and pointed towards the chair. 

“Mister Mellark,” Katniss finally said, ignoring his pointing finger and instead pacing to stand beside him. His blank features were concerning, and when she placed a hand on his arm, she felt stung when he moved away quickly. 

“I was reminded of your impending wedding date after our meeting yesterday,” Peeta began, glaring up at her; she squeezed the scarf in her hand at the expression. “Lord Hawthorne wished an assurance the painting would be done by Sunday next.” 

“Will it not?” asked Katniss softly, noting his bitter tone. She worried the inside of her lip against her teeth. 

“It will not if we keep on the way we have, princess. Never in all my days painting has a sketch taken me four days to complete. Between your attitude at our first meeting and your tardiness yesterday, I fear it will never be finished,” he said, gesturing to the partially finished sketch in front of him. Katniss nodded once, feeling a blush creep up to her cheek and guilt pool sickly in her chest. 

“Of course,” she whispered, fingering the edge of her silk scarf. “I do apologize for my inconveniencing you.” 

Peeta glanced at her, the worry and despair in her face evident even without the apology. He shook his head. “No matter,” he whispered, reaching out to touch her wrist gently. “The painting will be finished; I simply dread the day I no longer have the pleasure of your company.” 

“It was not such a pleasure two days ago,” Katniss snorted, trying to ignore the compliment. She swallowed hard and held the scarf out to Peeta. He looked between it and her. 

“I will end up with your entire scarf collection before we end here, princess,” Peeta scoffed. She shrugged one shoulder.

“They will be replaced,” she replied, a noncommittal air to her tone. “But further in regards to your concerns on time, I shall speak to my mother if you wish.”

Peeta pulled the scarf from between her fingers and admired the craftsmanship, the work that had gone into weaving together the strands of silk and dying them the off-white, eggshell tone he saw before him. “What would you speak of?” 

“My wedding,” Katniss explained. “The celebration is still nine days off. We can postpone, if you require.” Katniss flushed again and looked away. “It will give me time to adjust to his mistakes, as well.” 

“Why do you not simply end the courtship?” Peeta asked. Katniss shrugged and began her slow way to the chair beside the window. 

“My job as the princess is two-fold, my lord,” she said, sitting in the chair. She adjusted her skirts and hair before speaking again, glancing to Peeta for approval, who gave it with the softening of his expression. “I am to become queen and bear one female heir.” An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Peeta ran the silk through his fingers once more before stuffing the scarf into the pocket of his breeches; he picked up his pencil and started work, his strokes light and fast against the canvas. Katniss looked out at the still mercifully clear sky. It wasn’t long before she felt the familiar tightness in her throat and a few tears rolled down her cheeks undisturbed. She let them fall soundlessly onto her dress, saying nothing, afraid to move to wipe them away. Usually ultra-vigilant of her surroundings, Peeta’s stockinged footsteps padded nearly soundlessly to her, so his hand on her cheek made her jump. 

“I am alright,” she whispered, catching his fingers in hers as she reached up to dry her face. 

“I do not believe you, my lady,” Peeta said as he crouched before her. The simple gesture had become routine, yet intimate, and Peeta truly hated himself for wanting the intimacy to remain between them. “Your portrait is meant to be a reflection of you; severe, not miserable.” 

Katniss sniffed and gave him a tearful glare. “I believe it was you who wanted to assure Lord Hawthorne of the portraits readiness,” she muttered. Peeta pursed his lips. 

“More time would not be such a terrible idea, your highness, but I am able to work without you here,” Peeta replied. “I have chosen not to, for the sake of perfection, however…” He smoothed his calloused fingers over her hand, keeping his eyes lowered. “Would you mind proposing the idea to the queen?” 

Katniss shook her head but felt unable to speak. Tears she wasn’t expecting welled in her eyes. She tried to clear her throat, only to choke back a sob and have another bubble up from her chest. Peeta felt his legs growing tired from the crouch he sat in before he clutched her hand and pulled her to her feet. The embrace he gave was surprising, but kind and welcome. Katniss shook with silent tears as she burrowed her face into his neck. 

“Princess,” Peeta whispered into her hair. “You are worth infinitely more than the tasks you’ve seemingly resigned yourself to.” He pressed his face into her hair; she smelled of roses and pine. Brushing the thought of her scent away, Peeta pulled back and let his hands slide down her arms from shoulder to wrist. Katniss’ face was wet with tears, and she looked embarrassed, even shameful of her outburst. When Peeta tried to catch her eye, she looked away. 

“I have known nothing else,” she murmured, pulling away to sit again. “No kindness such as you these few days, and no love as my mother felt for my father before their marriage. Peeta walked back to the canvas as Katniss looked out the window. Her tone was contemplative instead of angered, and she didn’t try to make eye contact with him again. “I know not why my mother was allowed by her mother to marry my father, but I-” she cut herself off, biting her lip and rolling her eyes.

“Your highness, this is perhaps a touch informal, but when I finish here, how would you feel of a stroll with me in the garden? It’s become rather a habit of mine after our time together.” He wasn’t holding his breath - in fact, he knew to be disappointed. She watched him carefully out of the corner of her eyes before she smiled a secretive grin and inclined her head. 

“I think I would quite enjoy that. Your company has become a comfort, Mister Mellark.” Peeta smiled as he continued to sketch lightly on the fabric surface in front of him. “And of course, you shall have more time, should you wish it.” 

Peeta’s sly grin emanated into his tone. “I wish it, my lady.” 

#

It was pleasantly warm in the garden, the clear sky giving way to a cool sort of mid-May heat; Peeta and Katniss walked side by side through the aisles of flowers and bushes. It was uncommon for her to go anywhere unescorted, especially in the male company, but she felt so comfortable with Peeta; she was sure an escort would ruin it. They were quiet for a long while, drifting between the flowers and other plants which lined the dirt and pebble walkway. Katniss pointed and named the few flowers she knew as they passed them, appreciating Peeta’s looks of interest. Often, he would stop just to smell them, tugging Katniss by her fingers when something smelled particularly good or strong. 

“My lady,” Peeta said as they rounded the furthest corner of the garden and began their slow return. “I have another question for you.” 

“Ask,” Katniss consented. 

“What do you think makes a good ruler?” Peeta knew he was treading a fine line between curiosity and insubordination, so quickly clarified. “It is a question similar to that which I have asked many of my friends.” 

Katniss’ eyes roved over him before she breathed deeply and answered. “It depends on the people they serve, but I believe compassion the more important aspect of rule.” Peeta nodded and silence fell again. Katniss enjoyed greatly his ability to exist in the quiet; she felt so often bombarded with speech, rarely could she enjoy companionship without holding conversation. “I lack many of the traits those around me think I should posses to rule, if that is your true question.” 

Peeta paused and leaned down to smell a light pink rose, his fingers searching blindly for her hand. Delicately, she allowed him to take it, glancing around to ensure their lack of supervision. When he stood to pull her toward the flower, his fingers trailed from her palm to her waist. Katniss felt a fuzzy sort of heat warm her belly. She leaned into his touch, reveling in the new, unfamiliar sensation. When he leaned in to whisper against the shell of her ear, it was all she could do not to moan. 

“I believe you possess a great many more of those traits than you would think yourself to, princess,” Peeta whispered. To hide her reaction, Katniss moved away from his touch and leaned forward, smelling the rose he was smelling. She arched a brow up and glanced at him when the faint smell hit her nose. 

“Mister Mellark, I believe your sense of smell may be beginning to fade, as this flower is nearly scentless,” she said. He laughed and pulled her down the next row of flowers with him; neither let go of the others hand until the reached the straight away leading directly to the manor. They continued on in silence, mere inches from each other, and Katniss could not help but feel the shift in their relationship. Her heart pounded as she stepped closer to him, so their elbows were brushing as the rounded another corner and stepped into a more private section of the garden. An iron wrought bench was guarded from view of the pathways by two large hedges, and shaded from the line of the estate house by a large apple tree a few rows away. Katniss sits on the bench and tilts her head to one side, considering the area. 

“Your highness?” Peeta asks, turning back upon realization she wasn’t behind him. She gave him a short, sharp look and then returned her gaze to the tree in front of her. 

“Once,” she began in a soft undertone as Peeta sat beside her, “when I was very young, I climbed a tree on our country estate and fell.” Katniss laughed humorlessly. “I thought my mother would die of shock when my father carried me inside. I had a bloodied nose and a break in my left wrist. It all healed correctly, but I was never allowed to play like a _boy_ again.” Katniss’ eyes trailed along the tree branches, her lips a firm line. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled. “When my father passed, I tried to teach Prim everything he taught me.” Katniss leaned into Peeta, and her head came to rest on his shoulder. The sun hung at a midpoint behind them, warming her back and illuminating the grounds with a soft, golden light. In front of them, storm clouds were slowly rolling in from the northwest, threatening to soak the ground before too long. Peeta didn’t dare to move, allowing Katniss to rest her head on him, reveling in the slow, soft sounds of her breath and, after a time, the feeling of her hand on his. He feared what the feelings brewing in his chest meant, how he longed to stay here with the princess until the end of time. He knew there was no going back now, that his dedication to creating a rapport with Katniss had, in some ways, promoted this moment of quiet intimacy. 

“I feel for your loss, princess,” Peeta whispered, turning his hand over under hers, so their fingers wound together. He looked at the curl of her fingers between his, and sighed when she gripped him tighter. 

“Have you lost a family member?” Katniss asked, her voice full of concern. She sat up and turned to him without removing her hand from his. He squeezed her grasping fingers. 

“My mother died when I was much younger,” Peeta explained without looking at her. “She was sick for much of my youth, which made her unpleasant to be around. When she passed, I feared it was God punishing me for being wicked to her. I know now it was only a matter of time before whatever was ailing her would have ended her life.” 

“Still, that must have been-” 

“It was expected,” Peeta said, cutting Katniss off with a curt smile. “Not as your father.” 

“No,” she whispered, and drew her hand away to play with the edge of her shirt. “No, my father’s death was a surprise.” Peeta reached forward and banded his arm around her waist, drawing Katniss in closer than what may have been appropriate. The pleasant feeling of acceptance washed over him when she laid her head against his chest and set her hands neatly on his lap. They stayed as such, hidden from view of others, quietly appreciating each others company until the sun had moved significantly lower in the light azure sky. 

“I believe,” Peeta said as he moved away from her, “it is time for you to return to whatever tasks you must face.” Katniss laughed and took his proffered hand; neither released the other until they were back in full view of the estate, and their walk didn’t hasten to beat the setting sun. All too soon, they met the hallway where they had to part, her room to the left, and his far down the hall to the right. Peeta pulled the scarf she had given him earlier from his pocket and tried to hand it back, his expression insistent. Katniss merely shook her head and stepped forward before looking behind them both. 

“Your company has been a Godsend, Mister Mellark. I look forward to working with you tomorrow,” she said as she pushed the scarf back towards his chest and stepped forward closer. Peeta’s heart thumped wildly in his chest, a feeling of desperation coating his tongue and slipping down his throat. Katniss bowed her head then curtsied lightly and, without a second thought, placed a soft, unexpected kiss on the side of Peeta’s still unshaven face. She watched his shocked expression for a moment before he dipped into a shallow bow and coughed in surprise. Katniss brushed her fingers over his shoulder, then turned and walked quickly back to her bedroom. 

Once within the chamber, she leaned against the door with a smile on her face and a hot blush heating her exposed chest. She knew the risk she was taking, and the possibility of it being a mistake, but felt no want to care; her betrothed infidelity had stirred a fire in her, one she knew would be stoked best only by the man she could imagine still stood in the hall, all wild-eyed and uncautious. She pressed a hand to her overheated breast and laughed. Maybe she could feel what it was like to know a person before she was required to marry a man she thought she’d never be sure of. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the love. I know the wait has probably been excruciating, but I was trying to get settled in Serbia before I got back on the computer. Plus, I haven't seen my best friend in over a year (we've been friends since we were 11 and haven't ever gone longer than four months without seeing each other).  
> Thank you all so much for being patient and understanding. A new chapter should come later in the week, since I'll probably want a relaxing writing and studying maths day. Have an incredible week and I'll talk to you guys next time. 
> 
> If you're following my blog, there's a new post up! Much much love for you. <3 xx -Olive


	8. On Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss talks to her mother and Gale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear lord, I am so hecking sorry about the delay on this chapter. I genuinely didn't mean to make people wait this long, but I was on a mini vacation within my vacation and I took myself and about three changes of clothes where I went, so I couldn't update at all without my laptop. Good news, though, I have tons of content to update you with during my layover, which is literally 16 hours (kill me). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm excited for the next one.

Saturday passed in a similar fashion to Friday; Peeta’s warm smiles and coaxing words had Katniss talking more of herself than she had to anyone, even Madge. She left with a now familiar feeling of heat on her skin and one less scarf. She wondered absently what Peeta did with the scarves she gave him, but decided she didn’t care. He could be throwing them out with the rest of his rubbish and it wouldn’t matter to her - simply the act of defiance she committed by giving them to him was enough. Her promise to speak with her mother sent ice through her veins, though. Emily scared Katniss in some ways, with her severe and demanding presence. Katniss felt her clutch at perfection was tainted often by her mother’s inability to feel connected to either of her daughters, but especially Katniss. 

This didn’t prevent Katniss from walking slowly to her mother’s chambers down the hall from her own, dressed in her nightclothes and wrapped in a soft, silk dressing gown. Although her hands shook, she felt confident her mother would understand the trepidation - she had once been betrothed, as well. It was _Emily_ who had requested the painting in any case, even if she had put Gale up to the task of finding a painter. Katniss raised her fist and hesitantly knocked on the door. 

“Enter,” called Emily. Katniss slid through the door, inclining her head briefly to Octavia, who quietly curtsied and went back to organizing Emily’s dress for mass the following morning. Katniss shuffled into the room, stopping when her mother cleared her throat loudly. Looking up, she could see Emily peering over the edge of her bible with one eyebrow raised. “Shoes, Katniss.” 

“Of course, mama,” Katniss said, and nimbly toed off her shoes, leaving them beside the door. She approached her mother’s bed slowly. Often, interruptions while reading the bible were not tolerated. She stood at the foot of the bed, her stockinged feet cold without shoes. Emily ran her finger along a line and paused to look at her daughter. Katniss wrapped her robe tighter around herself. 

“What is it, child?” her mother asked softly. She was never smiley with Katniss, and tonight was no exception. 

“I was wondering perhaps if we could forestall the wedding,” Katniss watched her mother give her a stern look. “For only a week,” she continued quickly. “I promise. The painter does not think the work will be done before we want it to celebrate.” Emily considered her daughter for a moment; Katniss was an honest girl with little reason to lie. She nodded and gave Katniss a rare smile. 

“We’ll send word to the palace in the morning, and you may inform Lord Hawthorne whensoever you deem fit.” The queen resumed her reading, but Katniss stood still, and her mother paused once more to look up at her. The expression on Katniss’ face made Emily carefully pick up the silk ribbon and place it gently between the thin pages of her book. She set it on the night stand and patted the bed beside her, and Katniss carefully removed her silken robe and climbed beneath her mother’s ornate sheets. Her lip trembled with the effort it took not to cry. 

“What is the matter, my love?” Emily asked. Katniss shook her head and sniffed against the flow of tears. Her mother smoothed the back of her hand over Katniss’ cheek. The light touch against her face was enough to push her tears free. 

“I am fearful, mama,” Katniss began, “that I will not be happy.” 

“Oh, Katniss,” Emily said, bringing her daughter close as she began to cry in earnest. “You should never fear that. Gale is a good man, and he loves you very much. I would not permit you to be married to someone who did not care for you.” Katniss swallowed back the knowledge she had of his infidelity, knowing it would only bring pain to Madge. 

“If I were to tell you I do not love him in return, what would you do?” 

“Do you not?” Emily asked softly. Katniss shrugged and buried her head deeper into her mother’s chest. 

“I am… I continue to feel uncertain about the union,” Katniss replied quietly. “I know it is for the best, but-” 

“Katniss, may I tell you a story?” Emily pulled away from her daughter, eyes tracking over a face so unlike her own. Katniss nodded and tucked herself under the blankets to listen. “When I met your father I was very young, as you know. But I was betrothed to marry the Earl of Yon, young Thom’s uncle. However, I did not love him and felt increasing trepidation about the union. But, I felt it was important to keep my parents happy, and with the wedding still some years off, I thought I could work to an understanding with him, and with myself.” She cleared her throat and smiled down at her daughter. “I knew that my station did not always permit the love my parents fell into as they grew older together, but I had always hoped. 

“Meeting your father was in a way a terrible thing, because it broke a long standing promise to my parents, but in many ways changed the way in which I saw the world.

“You must be married, Katniss, as I had to be and all of our mothers before us. I tis a responsibility not only to your country, but to yourself and the line of Strafford women who proceeded and will follow, no matter the name of our line now.” Emily scooted closer to her daughter, and Katniss let herself be soothed by her mother’s rare embrace. “I wish you the happiest marriage, my daughter, but feel that I must impress on you how rare a love like that which I felt for your father is. You will be okay, Katniss, I promise you that.” 

It didn’t take long for Katniss to be asleep, a small smile on her face as she fell into a dream, where a man with flaxen curls and eyes like the sea loved her, and when she awoke many hours later, still pressed to her mother’s side, she felt a surge of contentment. Perhaps if she could learn of a love like that, she could be happy only experiencing it from afar. 

#

Mass was the same, boring affair it always was. Archbishop Snow spoke in soft, droning Latin, and Katniss watched from a few pews back as Peeta snoozed gently, between her uncle and Thom. Haymitch prodded him in the ribs as they stood to accept the Eucharist and he jumped up. Prim slid her hand into Katniss’ as they allowed Snow to place the cracker on their tongues and pour a small amount of the sacramental wine into their mouths. 

As they left, Prim squeezed Katniss’ fingers gently. “Mother told me the wedding will be held off until Mister Mellark can finish your portrait, sister.” The younger Everdeen’s voice was a low murmur, and Prim glanced around as they exited the small chapel. 

“Yes,” Katniss confirmed, inclining her head to a few women as they curtsied while passing. “I think, this morn’, a walk in the garden may do us some good.” 

“Of course,” Prim nodded in agreement. They walked slowly in that direction, hand in hand with each other as the rest of the castle returned to the quieter portions, where simple works would be done and dinner would be prepared. Prim looped her arm through her sister’s as she pulled them both outside. “I believe your fiance may be upset when you tell him.” 

“I agree,” KAtniss nodded as they began to walk down the nearest row of flowers, bushes and trees. They sat on a short bench, arms still looped together. Katniss laid her head on Prim’s shoulder. “Do you believe in love?” 

Prim took a long moment to answer, her free hand petting Katniss’ fingers. “I believe that many can and have felt the emotion in question, and I believe that I love you.” Katniss nodded and silence fell, sweet an amiable, and Katniss relished the quiet moment. As full as she was of anger, of bitter hatred for the betrayal she felt from her two oldest, closest friends, she also felt at peace with the situation. With another week to satiate her overwhelming need for Peeta’s company, her feelings, she knew, would grow back to normal and eventually an understanding of her relationship with Gale would be reached. Be it within herself or out, it didn’t truly matter.

Footsteps found their way to Katniss, light and yet determined; thunder clapped in the distance as Katniss raised her head. A footman stooped slightly in front of her. 

“Your Majesty, Lord Hawthorn has requested an audience with you. As the hunt has been postponed until next Sunday, he feels some time spent together could be appropriate, in proper company.” Kantiss nodded and pressed gently against her sisters arm, the pressure a small gesture of love. 

“Inform his Lordship I would be happy, more than happy to meet with him in my mother's chambers in one quarter of an hour from now,” Katniss replied stiffly. The footman nodded and glanced between Prim and Katniss before scurrying away. “Now seems to be as best a time as any for you to tell Gale of your postponement,” Prim murmured as they rose. They could hear the rain in the distance, falling harin hard fat drops from a nearly onyx cloud cover. 

“Indeed it does, sister,” Katniss replied, smiling lightly. 

#

Prim watched as Gale rose from his almost irreverent bow. From the look on his face, she could tell he didn’t like or agree with Katniss’ decision to meet in her mother’s quarters. Emily sat opposite the door, speaking in hushed tones to her lady, Effidora. Katniss stood by the long window, staring longingly out at the rain drenched garden until Gale cleared his throat, and she glanced over her shoulder. 

“My lord,” Katniss said, turning back. She gestured for him to stand beside her. His footfalls were nearly imperceptible, but Emily still cleared her throat and looked up. 

“Forgive me, my lord,” Emily spoke, stopping Gale in his tracks. “Your shoes must come off if you plan on spending any time in this room.” Gale grumbled but stooped and began unlacing his shoes. Eventually, he joined Katniss by the window, leaning against the opposite side of the frame.

“My lord,” Katniss repeated, her hand searching for his blindly. He clutched it in his own large one, eyes tracing the lines of her face.” 

“My lady,” he replied, a small smile sneaking onto his face. “Your company is well met on a dreary day as this.” 

“And yours,” Katniss said. She breathed in deeply and watched as the rain turned its tracks with the wind. The clouds swirled darkly over head, bolts of white lightning crackling across the looming expanse. “My mother and I have agreed to push the wedding back until the portrait is done, perhaps an additional week.” Gale’s upper lip stiffened at the comment, but he nodded. 

“I see.” 

“We want the portrait finished before the wedding, my mother and I.” 

“Is that right?” Gale’s fingers squeezed Katniss’, and she could almost feel the discomfort emanating from him.

“It is.” Katniss carefully extricated her hand from his, then turned to face him, taking in the curl of his lip and the hardness behind his eyes. “I hope you are not too upset. I know you were looking forward to the proceedings. My promise to you is it will happen sooner than later, of course. We need not wait longer than necessary.” 

“I am…” Gale trailed off and glanced at Emily, whose eyes flickered to where they stood. “But of course, your mother’s wishes are the priority.” He smiled and looked back at Katniss. “And yours, my lady.” Glae leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Katniss’ forehead. “I would like to spend some time with you in the coming week, should your mother approve.” 

“She may,” Katniss replied. “I am disappointed about the rain today. I was so looking forward to an opportunity to be in your company.” 

“Of course, the men are missing the hunt.” 

“I suspect Delly is elated to have the private day with His Lord.” 

“Oh, quite.” Gale laughed. Even through her frustration, with Gale there was an easiness, something that had always been there, and it comforted her. It reminded Katniss of their closeness since her father’s death. She canted her head to look at him, seeming something soften behind his eye’s grey façade. Katniss leaned forward, wrapping her skinny arms around his lean frame. Gale sighed in contentment and pulled her closer, arms sealing katniss firmly against him. 

“I do love you, Catnip,” Gale whispered against her ear. He breathed in the smell of her, simultaneously woodsey and soft, possibly floral. To Gale, Katniss always smelled good, the same her whole life. A reminder of their childhoods, climbing trees and picking wildflowers. “Please remember this, in these weeks, that no matter the situation between us, I do truly love you.” Katniss nodded and nuzzled further into his chest, wishing things were different between them, that he was faithful and that their marriage was natural, not forced. 

“We must prepare for dinner, my lord,” Katniss whispered without releasing him. Gale nodded and laughed as Katniss’ grip tightened. He slowly pushed her by her shoulders, trying to move her gently. She whined a little at the lost contact and shifted away, looking back out the window.

“I shall see you soon, then,” Gale said. They shared another small smile, and Gale departed, gathering his shoes from where he left them on the hard, cold wooden floor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi, thanks so much for reading, and again I'm sorry for the long awaited update. Nothing should take this long again until school starts. After I get back to the US it should be back to posting at least every-other day. 
> 
> Fair warning for the next chapter, it focuses for the first half on Gale. If that's not your thing, just read the note at the beginning of the next chapter so I can tell you where to skip to. Love ya bunches. xx - Olive


	9. Passing Idle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi,   
> SO I know I said I was going to post yesterday, but it was the last day of my vacation and I just couldn't bring myself to spend all day on my computer. I'm sitting in the airport right now and have nearly six hours left of my layover, so we'll see how that goes (help).   
> Like I said before, this chapter is about Gale - and Madge, too. If that's not your thing, that's fine, but there's an important conversation between them in the beginning. WARNING (and possible spoiler) there's some Gale/Madge smut, so if you're not interested in that, you can stop after the hashmark. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm sorry if it's not what you were expecting/craving.

He didn’t - he couldn’t understand why the wedding was being postponed. As contradictory as he knew his actions had been in the past, between his infatuation of Madge and his carousing and cavorting, he truly, truly loved Katniss with all there was within him. It was simply difficult. He’d never had a marriage or relationship he could look up to; something that was so great and true, he would base his whole existence upon it. His father, dead, was someone his mother wouldn’t speak on after he turned ten, and this knowledge pressed itself upon Gale at every opportunity. So he couldn’t understand why, for a portrait, his life, his world, his everything was being put on pause.

Until he saw the way she looked at him.

Gale knew Katniss tried very hard to keep the emotion off her face when the Mellark man walked into the hall for dinner. He knew when the elusive smile, so commonly reserved for him, painted her features like ink in water. It was an unpredictable thing, like he falling for, being with Madge. But it still stopped him cold. It was impossible, was it not? That Katniss could feel a thing for a man she barely knew, when she held Gale at arms length for so long? But he could sense the shift, the tension, the unresolved affection, and when he went to bed that night, Gale was hungry for something other than food.

But he wouldn’t call for Madge. He couldn’t bear the thought of relying on her more than he already did. She had an ironclad grip on him, and as he stripped down to slip beneath his silken covers, all he could imagine was the soft waves of her hair, the slick of her sweat soaked skin, the tight, throaty sounds she eked out as her nails dug into his chest. It was all too much, and he tossed and turned and refused to give in.

It was all too tempting to release his inhibitions and call on that fiercest animal, lust.

However, Gale resisted, and he turned finally into a fitful sleep, full of dreams of Katniss and, absurdly, the Mellark man; of Madge’s tearstained face across the aisle behind his bride; when he woke, his mood remained unchanged. He was just as confused, just as upset, just as empty. As old as this song and dance was between he and Katniss - him pulling her forward just for her to take three or four steps away - he couldn’t help but feel resentful about the change in date. What had he done wrong? Had Katniss found out about he and Madge - if so, why was it that she was simply changing the date and not ending the marriage, beheading them, banishing Madge to some more desolate part of the country?

Gale shook his head; he knew why: Katniss was too good - far too good - for any sort of drastic action that would cause those she loved harm. She was also selfish, and needed those she loved close. He knew: Katniss couldn’t survive without those closest to her. Like her father dying, it would break her in two. While this stirred a deep-seated affection for his oldest, closest friend, he still tasted that bitter sulkiness which clung to the pronouncement. His relationship with Madge - and the betrayal he knew Katniss would feel if she were to ever find out - would not change how he felt for Katniss. He loved her, and that was that.

Right?

The confusion of the situation, the seemingly budding relationship between Peeta and Katniss, between he and Madge, between Katniss and himself, all built inside of him until he was seething, fit to burst. He didn’t know what was going on or where he fit in, but felt lost, angry, confused, and most of all, hurt. He had no right, Gale knew this, because of whatever he saw fit to continue for four long years with Lady Undersee, but couldn’t help but express his mood through a poorly aimed kick at his shoes. His toes slammed into the foot of one of his bedposts, and he let out a guttural roar at the paint here. Gale sat angrily on his bed, seething, his foot pounding. There was no reason to feel as angry as he felt; two weeks couldn’t make any more of a difference than one.

Gale left his quarters after considering his options for the day. He spent a long time wondering how Katniss would feel were she to have the wedding forced back on his account. Elated, more than likely; he felt unsure that Katniss even felt a hint of emotion towards him, anything more than affection for a friend. It burned inside him like acid to think that way, feeling as he did. Conflicted, he wandered aimlessly, bowing and nodding his head when necessary, until he found himself in front of the quarters belonging to Katniss’ ladies. He hadn’t meant to end up here, but knew he was drawn by the possibility of someone who cared for him, who he knew cared for him. Hesitantly, he knocked and waited.

A young, fair-skinned, red headed woman answered the door, surprise registering on her face before she had a mind to curtsy gently.

“My lord, Her Highness’ room is across the hall, as I am sure you are well aware,” the woman said. Gale’s upper lip curled briefly and he attempted to smile at her.

“Of course, but she is with the Mellark man already, is she not?” Gale asked smoothly. Someone cleared their throat behind the redhead and she turned. Madge, all fair skin and flowing hair, stood glaring at Glae, malice coating her delicate features.

“My lord,” Madge said briskly. “It is… inappropriate for you to attend our quarters, is it not?” She bustled over, straightening her shirt lower over her skirts as she went. With a flick of her wrist, she dismissed the other woman and pushed Gale out of the doorway, closing the wooden door with a snap behind her. Gale clutched her wrist and glanced surreptitiously around. “Release me, Glae.”

“I had to see you,” Gale said between gritted teeth, “I am desperate for a company that cares for me.”

“Her Majesty cares for you deeply,” Madge spat, wrenching her hand from his grasp. “We cannot continue this, for risk of either of Their Majesties discovering out salacious acts.”

“Madge,” Gale whined, reaching towards her waist. “I want-"

“The postponement of your marriage is most unfortunate, my lord,but cannot change my wishes.” Madge’s eyes filled with tears as she glanced away. A heaviness sat between them, pregnant with their unsaid words. “I fear the consequences of our actions may be permanent if we are to continue in this thread.”

“Speak plainly,” Gale coughed impatiently. Madge looked around again and, seeing the hall was empty, dragged him by the elbow to Katniss’ empty room. Once inside, with the door closed behind them, Madge stepped away and crossed her arms over her chest, emanating waves of hurt and anger.

“My lord is aware of who I am related?” Madge asked, looking bitterly away. An errant tear fell from her eye, and she swiped at it, missing nearly entirely.

“I believe I am,” Gale said, stepping forward with precise caution, as if trying not to spook a wild animal.

“You know, therefore, of the existence of my cousin, and of his paternal parentage?”

“Yes.”

“That my aunt may never see her son’s father, and must live alone, raising him on a pittance wage in Cobbe?”

“I have this knowledge.”

“And the knowledge of the Earl of Coalsten’s fall to drunkenness at this decision?”

“Madge-”

“Confirm you have this information, Gale, before you try to pull me to your bed again.”

“I love you.”

Madge froze, her mouth a surprised ‘o’ in the time after his words. It was obvious to Gale that he had caught her entirely off-guard by his admittance, and he took the opportunity to draw her into his arms and kiss her forehead.

“The princess and I- our-” Gale stuttered himself to a stop and took a deep breath, trying desperately to steady himself. “I do love the Princess, as you know, but there is something about you that controls me so deeply. And I believe I can love you and she at once.”

“Gale-”

“Allow me the courtesy of finishing my thoughts, my lady.” Madge bowed her head, leaning her forehead against his chest. “In these four years I have been with and known you, I expected to exclusively be understanding and readying myself for the marriage I will so soon participate in.” Gale paused and tipped Madge’s face up. “I wish I could explain the difference in love between the two of you.”

“Gale, please,” Madge said, backing away from him. “I cannot stand this path of conversation. Each day is agony, to watch and need you, but know that my best friend - my longest friend - is to marry you. And she is so nervous that you do not love her, that she will not be happy, and yet here you are, admitting your love for me-”

“I don’t know how else to show my love for her.”

“ _Show her,_ ” Madge said, emphasis on each word as she drew them out of her mouth. “My lord, you are troubled and I understand that, but I cannot continue something that will, in the end, harm us both.”

Gale shook his head. “My love for the princess, my promise to her father and my father and her, and the promise I have now made to this country; none of these things make me love you any less.”

“You are not establishing a wellfound case for yourself, my lord.”

“A case is not what I am trying to plead, my lady.” Gale tugged on her and she relented. “Come to my chambers once more, if you must end things now.”

Madge shook her head, looking annoyed. “Once more,” she whispered. “Tonight, after Her Majesty has gone to sleep, I will come. Do not call.” Madge pressed up onto her tiptoes and kissed Gale lightly, resisting when he tried to pull her forward.

#

The remainder of the day moved too slowly for Gale, whose elation at the prospect of one final night with Madge could not be bested even by the glimpse he got of Katniss’ secretive smile and the flush of her uncovered breastbone after leaving Peeta’s room for dinner. When night finally fell, he stayed in his quarters and waited.

And waited.

And finally, just as Gale was settling beneath the covers, expecting Madge had lead him on, his door creaked open and she stood before him in her nightgown and robe, pale skin flushed, her nipples pert and pink through her shift. She walked towards him as if in a dream, shedding her silken dressing gown; he barely had time to throw his sheets off his lap before she was straddling his waist. He gripped her full hips as she ground against him, one hand on the back of his head and the other on his firm chest. He could feel his arousal growing against her, the heat of core, bare against his nightclothes, pushing him to grow harder faster. Their lips had barely met when she began pushing his shift upwards, hers already gathered in tight folds around her waist.

Madge moaned as she felt his cock push against her arousal, and Gale’s hips bucked against Madge’s wetness, trying to bring them closer without yet entering her. The friction ebbed through him as goosebumps, and his throat was thick with an emotion he couldn’t place. Madge wrapped her small hand around Gale’s engorged cock, stroking in a smooth, slow rhythm before lifting her hips to sink down on him.

It was as nothing Gale had ever felt, as it had been every time before this. He wondered idly to himself, as he pushed her linen dress up over her chest and sucked one of her small, hardened nipples into his mouth, how he hadn’t realized his infatuation for her earlier. Guilt reared in him, shallow and muted against the feeling of her walls pulsing around his member; how would he be married to Katniss fairly, when he knew there would be a constant comparison?

Their passions grew uninhibited, wild and loud and without even the slightest microcosm of decency. Madge felt no guilt as she threw her head back and met Gale stroke for stroke; Gale’s own feelings of frustration, betrayal, and remorse were wrenched from him as her lips whispered his name over and over. An endless litany of swears, punctuated by Madge’s fingers gripping him erratically, were drawn from his lips as he grew closer and closer to the edge. They both cried out for each other as they met their climax with explosive force. As they fell apart, panting and coated in sweat, Gale slid his fingers up Madge’s exposed thigh; her shift fell back over her chest and she leaned her forehead on his shoulder, breathing heavily.

“Has this changed-” Gale stuttered, gasping briefly as she pulled off him, “changed your mind, my lady?”

“M-my lord, it…” Madge trailed off, but sat back with closed eyes; he could tell she was close to tears for the second time today, and waited for the break. Instead, she rose and shook her head, brushing away his hand. She didn’t - or couldn’t - look back as she left the room. Gale was quiet for a long time before a wave of hot tears rolled over him and he felt lost to the agony of heartbreak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo what a ride.   
> Anyway, new chapter soonish. I gotta recover when I get home, though. I'm EXHAUSTED. Love you all so much. xx -Olive


	10. Breakthrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The revelation of feelings leads to a series of breakthroughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi, 
> 
> Thanks for all the wonderful, insightful, and _angery _comments on the last chapter! I know everyone hates Gale here, and I don't blame you - good to know I've promoted a convincing character here.__  
>  We're officially halfway through. xx -Olive

Laughter split the room, loud and full, and as he laughed, Peeta moved his hand, lest he place a wrong stroke of the brush. Katniss’ chuckle followed, low but just as loud. 

“You mean to tell me,” Peeta choked out between laughs, “when you first met Lord Hawthorne, it was with his-” he made a lewd gesture “-and he was urinating-” 

“On my mother’s best primroses, yes,” Katniss finished, a smirk furnishing her features. “And I tried to help him before my mother came around the corner. We were already at least four years into our betrothal. At eldest, I was eight and he ten.” 

“Did your mother catch the both of you?” 

“With my quick fingers on his breech buttons, no less,” Katniss replied. “The first time I’d met him in memory and the first thing that happens…” Katniss trailed off and glanced back out the window. 

“What was your father like?” Peeta asked, watching as her jaw tightened a little. He worried he’d asked the wrong thing, but she grimaced and tried in vain to smile. 

“He was a very good man,” she whispered. “A hunter for the crown, able to teach me were I ever to be lost on my own. As if my mother would let me out of her sights long enough to do something as silly as that.” 

“What did he teach you?” Peeta’s tone was light, curious even, but in reality he was desperate for information he knew he was meant to dig for, that Katniss would never willingly offer up herself. 

“Archery, for sport, and how to skin a beast should I require it.” Katniss shrugged. “I spent much, much time with him as a small child. He, uh,” Katniss paused, biting the inside of her lip. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “He passed in a hunting accident about six years ago, the details of which I am uncertain. It was before I was able to ask him of… anything.” Katniss’ voice broke and she looked away from Peeta quickly, catching her tears before they were able to fall. 

“I…’ Peeta cleared his throat and looked away from the princesses tear stained face. “I did not mean-” 

“It is alright,” Katniss waved ambivalently. “Simply a subject about which I find myself overly sensitive.” She gave Peeta a small smile, which dazzled him no less than her toothy, wide grins. “Tell me, instead, of your family.” 

“Ah,” Peeta returned to his work with a grimace of his own, filling in a grey background with wide, firm brush strokes. “My family is… complicated.” 

“A queen threatening to abdicate for love, complicated?” Katniss teased playfull. 

“No,” Peeta scoffed. “Not quite so dire.” He continued in silence for another long moment, and Katniss thought he would avoid the topic completely. “As I told you, my mother was ill for a long time. But, I have two brothers; Charles, for my father, and Jacob, for our uncle.” 

“And you?” 

“Mmm, Peter, for my mother’s father, and Joshua, for her brother.” Katniss squinted at him, but nodded and waved for him to continue. “In any case, my mother hoped her whole life for a daughter, and after I was born, my father told me she lost something in herself which was believed untraceable. I became the brunt of her suffering. My wish was always to be the best son, the best help, the best I could possibly be.” 

“And so her illness… how did this manifest?” 

“Days in bed, wild tempers, beating me over small infractions imposed by my brothers, a constant stream of muttered dismissals. All culminating in her death, about ten years ago.” 

“Oh,” Katniss said, brow furrowed in concerned. 

“It was, as I have said, expected.” Peeta cleared his throat. “She took her own life. Thankfully none of us were home to… Well, in any case, my father has been remarried since then, to a widow named Jane. She has a lovely daughter - her only child - Annabeth. Annie, as we call her, married my oldest and dearest friend a few months ago.” Katniss grinned. 

“Tell me more of them,” she pleaded. 

“Perhaps another time, my lady.” They sat in silence for the rest of the session, until Peeta cleared his throat and set his paintbrush down. “Princess, I wonder if you would answer something that’s been plaguing me these few days.” 

“Certainly,” Katniss intoned, casting a worried look at him from where she sat. She leaned forward to pick up a small, crystal glass filled with water and raised it to her lips. 

“Why do you insist I keep your scarves?” 

Katniss nearly choked at the question and cleared her throat, looking out the window. Shaking her head like a dog from water, she gestured him to sit beside her, which he did after only a moment or two of protest. “For a long time,” Katniss started lightly,“I was mad at my father for not telling me why I had to be married to a man I thought so… crude. I care for Gale in my own way, but I never saw him fit to assist with my rule, to be King Consort, to do any of the things my father, though his station was always higher. 

“I thought, rather than to make me happy, it was simply to elevate those whom he knew best. I do not know the reason even to this day, but feel such shame thinking these things of my father that it makes me want to scream. I was never given the opportunity to ask.” 

“What does this-” Katniss raised her hand to silence Peeta, and he shut his mouth at once. 

“I find myself growing increasingly enamoured by your company, though for reasons still vague and untenable to me. I feel…” Katniss pushed her tongue into the side of her mouth, trying carefully to extricate exactly the words she meant. “I feel most like myself when I am with you. As though I am not expected to be someone I am not.” 

“I still don’t see-”

“I must be careful with my words, my lord,” Katniss whispered. “But I believe the scarves should be enough to make my feelings plain.” Hesitantly, Katniss reached over to wind her fingers through his paint and dye stained ones, relishing in the rough, tough calluses and silky feeling of linseed oil that clung to each groove and crevice. He nodded once, and with a stiff smile, squeezed her fingers. 

“I feel the same, I believe. But-” 

“But I must be married.” 

“Yes.” The silence that spanned between them this time was uncomfortable, until Peeta reached up with their joined hands and placed a gentle kiss on Katniss’ knuckles, the wet insides of his lips pressing softly against her tender flesh. She had her own calluses from the bow and bridle of her horse, but the contrast between her mildly weathered skin, and his scarred and overworked fingers was marked by mildly indecent thoughts. Her chest flushed pink and Katniss retracted her fingers to caress his cheek. 

“I require a viewing of your wardrobe, princess,” Peeta remarked quitely, eyes closed against her sweet touch. 

“Come, then. I will have Catherine and Madge help me lay out the clothes.” Peeta bowed and allowed Katniss to lead the way, her hands gathered neatly in front of her swaying skirts and they exited out into the hall. He watched her move and revealed in the mindlessness of her actions, the easy shift of her hips and the light swing of her long, mahogany hair. He knew watching her marry Lord hawthorn would break him utterly in half, and tried to gather his thoughts logically to Finnick’s brisk but beautiful cousin, Johanna. Marriage to her would be timely, even ideal, but the feelings he had welling in his chest for the future monarch were heavy and slightly taxing. She slipped open her door too soon and waved him inside. 

“I must gather my girls. I will be with you momentarily.” She disappeared as he stepped through the door. Her room was not at all reflective of whom he knew the princess to be. It was overwrought with adornment, as the rest of the manor was, and had Peeta considering what her bedroom at home would look like. Simple, neat, meticulously clean; these were all things he expected Katniss to appreciate. In a different time, perhaps they would already be in love, married, with children in his simple country cottage. Peeta dismissed the silly ideation, focusing instead on the bed. He could smell the familiar, almost woodsy tang of Katniss’ natural musk permeating the air. He trailed his fingers across the downy bed spread, feeling at once peaceful and on edge. How had this rude, secretive, hurting woman so effectively captured him?

When the door opened, he jumped and yanked his hand away from her bed, earning a questioning glance from Katniss. She was followed by a small, dark-skinned woman with neatly manicured braids, and a tall, pale girl no older than sixteen, with freckles, and sharp angular features not unlike that of a fox. He smiled and inclined his head at them both. 

“Madge was otherwise occupied; as such, Rue offered her time.” The shorter woman waved and both Katniss’ ladies stepped towards the wardrobe, whispering quietly to each other. Katniss tone was a hushed whisper when she spoke again. “I did not intend to surprise you.” 

“Of course,” Peeta said with a grin. “I was merely considering how enraptured I have become in these few short days.” Katniss’ face flushed as she glanced away, embarrassed at the compliment. 

“My lord,” she whispered. 

“I felt to make it known, as you have. Less subtly perhaps, but no less true.” Katniss shook her head and pressed her fingers lightly to the inside of his wrist before turning to gesture at a few of the dresses she’d instructed them to lay out. Peeta ran his hand across the silken gowns, stopping briefly on her marigold colored party dress and her red evening skirts. He twitched the edge of her pine colored skirt, the one she’d worn on the first day with him ands miles. 

“This one, your highness, will do just fine. I'll match the color tomoor, but would expect to wear it more often than you normally would,” he said, when winked at her. 

“And which scarf, my lord?” asked Rue, laying out a few across her arm. Peeta sucked air through his teeth and agave a secret smile. 

“Any will do, my lady,” Peeta said genially to Rue, who nodded and moved to recollect the dresses and stow them carefully back in the wardrobe. 

“I look forward to seeing the finished product,” Katniss said. She lowered her voice to continue, “not too soon, however.” Peeta inclined his head and kissed the bare knuckles of her left hand. 

“I will see you in the morning, princess.” Peeta said as he took his leave. Rue canted her head to look at Katniss, who avoided her gaze. 

“Shall we set out the dress now, my lady?” Rue asked kindly. “And yours for dinner?” 

“No, but you could help me undress for my rest,” Katniss said as she began to unpin her shirt. “And send madge in when you see her next. I would like to know who she’s been attending in my stead.” She stood carefully while rue and Catherine began to undress her; she was certain she knew exactly where, and with whom, Madge had been with. 

#

It was only when Katniss was beginning to drift into an uneasy rest that three snarp, quiet raps sounded at her door. It swung open just enough to allow Madge’s slender form to slide softly into the room. She went about her normal afternoon tasks, emptying the ceramic bowl of face and hand water into a shallow basin to be carried out by the maids, setting out some parchment and a fresh well of ink for a letter, renewing the towel of Katniss to dry with. When she’d finished, the room was tidier, and Katniss’ chest felt tight in the quiet. 

“My apologies for my absence this afternoon, my lady, it slipped my mind that I was meant to help with the dresses. I attended the kitchen to assist Sae.” Katniss watched her draw the curtains shut through half-lidded eyes, uncertain whether or not to believe her.

“Why the kitchen? It rained heavily yesterday and I know some of the ladies had mind to help clear the garden.” Katniss shifted slightly in her bed to watch Madge’s expression. She cleared her throat when Madge did not immediately answer. 

“My lady, do not rush too quick to judge me, but Sae as made a blend of herbs that help stay the possibility that I could… make the same mistake as my aunt.” 

“So you are still seeing Lord Hawthorne?” Katniss said blythely. It was less of an accusation than a question, as though she found the whole situation amusing instead of exhausting. Madge shook her head. 

“No, my lady, not anymore. I told him such.” 

“When?” 

“L-last night,” Madge stuttered. Katniss smirked and looked away. It would never last, Gales’ potential to be faithful to Katniss, because it was never what either of them had wanted. Even now, years later, she could see the path they’d woven, slowly moving away from, rather than to each other. Katniss loved him, of course, but couldn’t tell if the love she felt for him matched that which she saw written listlessly on Madge’s unsure features. Peeta grew in the back of her mind as she considered the question of her love, and she closed her eyes against the idea. 

She could not grow too attached to the painter. It was so much easier this way. Arranged; almost anonymous. 

“If-” Katniss opened her eyes and searched for her lady, who stood at the end of the bed, fiddling the scarf shed chosen for Katniss’ dinner wear. Magde’s eyes flicked away as soon as they met Katniss’, and the princess suddenly noticed how exhausted her friend and confidant looked. “Were I to tell you something possibility incriminating, would you promise to keep my secret?” 

“Yes, my lady, of course,” Madge said, setting the scarf gingerly down on the edge of the bed. Katniss gestured her over and patted the side she was laying on, turning to face Madge and make more room for her to perch lightly there. 

“I feel slightly muddied in my emotions at this time. The weddings postponement has made matters all the worse,” Katniss explained. She couldn’t look at Madge, feeling suddenly vulnerable and exposed. “I know not how I’ve landed myself in this situation, but I believe I have developed something of an infatuation for Mister Mellark.” 

“I don’t think I understand what you mean, your highness,” Madge said slowly, shaking her head. 

“I have no definite definition for how I have come to feel. It is something between love and interetest. I am,” Katniss paused to chew her lip, thinking hard, “well, it does not matter what I am, really, since I will be married in only two weeks.” 

“My lady, if you mean what I think,” Madge began conspiratorially, “you must act. Love is fleeting and so very elusive. Not all can be like your mother and marry whomever they wish.”

“What are you saying?” Katniss whispered. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she felt at once uneasy and eleated. 

“You will not abdicate, we both know this,” Madge leaned forward, both her hands on Katniss’ wrists; Katniss nodded, still a touch confused. “But you need not suffer a loss of love without ever knowing its touch. You cannot break further that trust which is already broken between you and Gale.” 

Katniss moved forward suddenly, throwing her arms around Madge in a rare display of physical affection. Tears pricked at her eyes and for a moment, Katniss though she genuinely may cry. Her heart was singinging with possibilities.

“You must do something for me,” Katniss murmured as she drew away. 

“Anything for you.” Madge clutched Katniss’ hands. “These years secrets have been the worst mistake.” 

“Nevermind this,” Katniss said. “You must continue your affair with Gale.” Madge opened her mouth to protest, and Katniss squeezed her fingers to silence her. “I require this of you, and I thought it would be more amenable to have permission rather than continuing to sneak.” 

“Of course, my lady, but-” 

“Madge.” 

“Yes, I will.” Madge looked put out and Katniss reached toward her, comforting her with a single stroke of her fingers down Madge’s cheek. “I feel uncertain that this distraction will be enough,” Madge commented, concern framing her features. 

“It will be. Trust me,” Katniss whispered with a smile. 

#

Katniss was quiet through most of the time she spent with Peeta the next morning, sipping calmingly at an herbal concoction provided by Sae in the place of water or wine. The quiet, the drink, and the rain that had picked up the night before all soothed her. Katniss’ nerves felt afraid and frazzled from tossing and turning all night, plagued frightening dreams of Peeta being discovered with Katniss, their heads on the chopping block, Gale’s proud face assured. 

She knew it would never end that way, that she and Peeta would not be discovered, that her mother would protect her. Even still, she watched Peeta work carefully and fiddled with the edge of her dark green shirt, trying not to think too much about the conversation with Madge. Everything inside her was screaming to confess her feelings loudly, to stomp across the room and press her lips to his and forget she was engaged and she was a princess and all of the things she knew she could never forget. 

“How are you feeling today?” Peeta finally asked, reaching to the spindle legged table beside him to sip from his own ceramic cup. “You are very quiet.” 

“I feel as though Lord Hawthorne may be more frustrated by the delay than he let on initially,” Katniss said idly, looking back out the window. Peeta nodded. 

“Perhaps.” He layered another few strokes on his canvas before he spoke again. “But I asked of you, princess, not of His Lordship.” 

“I am fine,” she lied, voice a mere whisper. Swallowing and steeling herself, she threw it all on the line. “I am confused of my emotions as of late.” 

“How so?” 

Katniss considered him for a long while before she answered, watching thick drops of rain water drip heavily down the warped and buckled glass window. The storm didn’t help her thoughts, because beside calming her, she felt equally unrestful within as the world looked without. When she finally spoke, it was with a sense of unease, even fear, at how he would react to her words. 

“Do you believe marriage should be a union of love over convenience?” Katniss asked quietly. Peeta paused in his work and cleared his throat. 

“I believe it may depend on the situation one is in,” Peeta answered. Katniss scowled at him, and he knew the answer was unsatisfactory. “From my view, love always lasts longer than convenience, princess.” 

“And so if I were-” Katniss glanced at him and sighed. “If I were to tell you I do not love my fiance, would you still believe it best to be married for love?” 

“I…” Peeta frowned at the portrait, which, now they’d come to some semblance of friendship, was making good time. “Your majesty, I feel uncertain that my experience with love and marriage would promote stroke advice.”

“I’m simply asking a question, Mister Mellark,” Katniss bristled. The air in the room felt as though it had dropped ten degrees, and was suddenly cold, stagnant, not the pleasant calm she’d come to expect; she wanted nothing more than to flee. “Please,” she said after another long silence, trying to lower her hackles. “I am lost.” 

“Your situation, while unfortunate, is necessary,” Peeta bit out. He felt spiteful at her words, unsure of her meaning. It was one of those seemingly innocent questions full up of unspoken words, alternate cravings. Katniss huffed and looked at him. 

“I feel for you as I never have another. It is strange, my lord,” Katniss said.

“My lady, please,” Peeta pleased. He set down his paint brush. “Torture me no more with ideas that cannot be.” 

“But if they could?” 

“Do not even promote the thought.” Peeta laid his hands over his face and groaned. He’d dreamed of her, of the smoothness of her skin and the feel of her lips. The idea of tangling his hands in her hair and pulling her into his bed was more than he could bear. When he removed his hands, he could see the tears that tracked down the princess beautiful fae, and understood what, exactly, she meant when she said she was lost. “You should not have to marry without love.” 

Katniss’ stormy eyes met his, and the unspoken words carried themselves to Peeta’s lips against his own volition. 

“If things… if things were different, I would marry you in an instant,” Peeta whispered. The gasp that left Katniss was more than Peeta could bear, and he lifted the small brush to continue his like stroke that, he hoped, emulated the beauty he could not have. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooooooo~  
> Man, I've been sitting on that revelation for a few weeks now. I write in bits in pieces and then stitch it all together, and that one line from Peeta was probably the third thing I wrote for this story, so I've had it for a while. 
> 
> I hope the chapter was satisfactory. Be sure to read the note at the top of the next chapter, coming in a couple days. Love you mucho mucho mucho. xx -Olive


	11. Under Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss confronts Gale; Peeta shows Katniss the painting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi,   
> Thanks for all the wonderful comments. If you haven't seen it yet, I posted a very sad story called _Numbers_ a couple days ago to fill in the void between chapters. If you're interested, I would highly recommend reading it, since I think it's a pretty excellent AU story.   
> Some fun stuff happens in this chapter and I hope you enjoy it a lot. Have a wonderful rest of your day.   
> xx -Olive

Katniss and Peeta could barely look at one another when Thursday’s session began. He was flushed and flustered from the start, his words jumbled and stuttering. Katniss could feel the shift between them, and the tension which stemmed from it, so instead of pushing against a locked door, she chose to sit as instructed her first day and steal glances at him whenever she was given the chance. 

“Princess,” Peeta groaned after only a few hours. “I believe I have painted the same spot four times since your arrival.” The sun made its first appearance since Sunday morning, a warm gold over the empty garden. “You will have to forgive me for ending our time so abruptly.” 

“It is not a concern,” Katniss said, though in truth she knew her time was better spent here than in the company of other, less deserving men. She thought of the promise she made of Gale, to have him join her in a turn around the garden, and with a glance out at the newly blue-hued sky, figured this would be a better time than any to do that. She stood and brushed her skirts off, glancing when Peeta moved to palm the scarf in his pocket. “I must attend Lord Hawthorne, in any case.” 

“Of course,” Peeta’s tone was bitter even though his expression was nearly careless. Katniss nodded slowly and curtsied. She didn’t wait for Peeta to rise or escort her to the door; she simply left him where he sat before the tears struck again. 

#

The garden smelled of wet roses and the pine laden forest in the distance. Katniss’ head hurt, and she was angry and bitter at the proposal she’d set with Madge. Suddenly, some spiteful, vengeful part of herself reared its ugly head and all she could think to say to Gale were words of caution, warning, and defense. She felt tricked into giving out permission, even when she knew it was her own fault. The feelings swirling within herself, comparisons between that which she felt for Gale and that which she felt for Peeta, all confused her, made her lonely and tired and desperate for some sort of solid answer. She was still young, still fragile, still so, so uncertain of the path her life was taking, even if it had been written long before she’d begun to form memories. Katniss had sent Catherine to collect Gale for their walk, and of course requiring an escort, had commissioned her to stay. When Gale waved a wide hand to her in greeting from the back stairs, she stood and took a few slow steps into the first wide, hedge lined path. 

Gale caught up with her shortly after, breathing slightly labored. They walked through the garden a ways apart; every so often, Katniss would stop to admire the flowers and glance back at Catherine, who followed behind a good distance. 

“My lord,” Katniss said as she tucked two fingers behind a rose and leaned down to smell it. Her tone was light, but had a dangerous air. “Only God is to know the future, of course, but allow me to tell you what I wish our life to contain.” Gale glanced at her and nodded, his step faltering only slightly as they turned a corner. 

“Of course, your majesty. I am anxious to hear,” Gale replied, making an obvious effort to keep his voice bright. 

“I wish for a large family and many visits to the country.” She paused and stopped, glancing as Catherine stopped where she was and bowed her head. When she turned to look at Gale, he seemed nervous. “I wish for our children to have freedom, our daughters to be loved, and for you to be faithful.” Gale’s eyes widened and Katniss lowered her head, smiling a little at the surprised expression. 

“My lady,” Gale said in what Katniss knew to be feigned confusion as they walked on, hurrying to grip her by the elbow. She shook him off and tucked herself in tighter. 

“I have not finished,” Katniss spoke over him. “You may carry on your tryst with my greatest chambermaid, but understand something.” She could feel Gale’s wary gaze on her and reveled in the power she held. “If I come to find it has continued after our marriage, I will not be so forgiving of Madge this time.” 

Gale placed a hand on Katniss back as they turned another corner. “I must apologize to your majesty,” Gale said, settling her on a bench and kneeling before her. “Were I to know you would find out- it was just a short while, in any case, and-” 

Katniss shook her head and laughed softly. “Many visits over four years does not seem a short time to me,” Katniss whispered. “Have your fun, Gale, but remember: you are promising yourself to me in ten days.” Gale nodded and bowed his head. There was a dark flush on his face, and a guilty air about him, but he conceded and stood. 

“Your majesty will forgive me, I hope,” he said, holding out his arm to her. 

“Of course,” Katniss replied, taking his arm and allowing him to pull her up. Gale stayed, his arm wound through hers, as he hurried her down a quiet, more secluded path before gripping her shoulders and turning her to face him. 

“I thought I was clear when we met in your mother's chambers, Katniss,” Gale whispered. Her temper flared at the casual use of her given name, but she bit it down and glanced towards Catherine’s concerned face. Katniss jerked her chin away; Catherine took the signal and turned to walk slowly in the opposite direction. 

“Love me all you wish, my lord,” Katniss said venomously, “but make no mistake, your betrayal is noted, and you have luck that it was myself, not my mother, who found your transgressions.” Gale nodded, borw tightly knitted. 

“I love you, heart and soul, but fear you do not love me in return,” Gale palmed the side of Katniss’ face; chills ran down her spine at his touch, and a confusing warmth pooled in her belly. 

“I have no answer to quell your fears,” Katniss said. “Your love is a confusing one, Gale; I did not know it was common for those who love others to sneak around behind their backs and admit love to another.”

“Katniss,” Gale pleaded. “I beg of you to not speak this way.” 

“Do not pretend this is news to you.” Katniss tried to step away from his grip, but his fingers tightened around her shoulder and she glanced between his face and hand with wide, angry eyes. 

“It is not, but please,” he stumbled over his words, “allow me to prove you of my love.” Before Katniss could open her mouth to answer, Gale leaned in and crushed his lips to hers. It felt strange, this first glance at intimacy, and as he wrapped his long, strong arms around her, she melted. Unexpectedly, this physical affection stirred within her a reaction she could never have predicted. His tongue flicked out to trace the seam of her lips, and her gasp allowed him entrance. 

His hands fell flat against her back, one snaking up into her hair to fist at the roots. Katniss’ hands wound to the side of his face and gripped tightly, her lips moving in time with his, tongue flexing languidly, dancing against his own. She moaned lightly as he pulled their bodies completely flush, so she could feel his hardness, however faint, pressed up against her hip. The outrageous situation she was in hit her like a strong wind and she pulled away roughly, breathing hard. Gale’s hand were still wound in her hair and tight in her skirt. 

“Do you believe me now?” Gale asked, his face flushed. She let her hands drop to his shoulders. 

“Gale, I never disbelieved you. I think you are merely confused as to what your love for me is,” Katniss said breathlessly. “And… I do not want this with you, now. You have a conflict between us, and that is your love for Lady Undersee.” Gale sighed. 

“I understand,” he replied as he released her. “It will end, I swear to you.” 

“If you swear it,” Katniss said, “that I believe. But I must tell you, Lord Hawthorne,” Katniss met his gaze with a scorching look. “Touch me again without my consent, and I will have your title.” She pulled fully away and dropped her hands back into their usual positioning in front of her skirts. Gale followed her out of their secluded path back to where Catherine stood. For the first time in their relationship, Katniss felt truly powerful and in control. 

#

Peeta felt despondent as he paced away from the window. Secluded or not, his windows were high enough to see into a vast majority of the garden. Gale and Katniss wrapped around each other, followed by his soft eyes and whatever desperately whispered words. Peeta couldn’t make out the details of Gale’s face of course, but he imagined all of these things with scarring accuracy. 

He’d become so attached to Katniss, to this idea of her; it was a false intimacy, etched into this imagination like real memories. What would it be like, he wondered, to love her, and be loved by her? It was undignified, even sacrilegious, what he did next. Sitting in her chair, to get as close as he could to her faint scent, he dug out the scarf from his pocket and pressed it to his nose while palming himself to hardness through his breeches. Once his rigid cock would strain no further against the coarse linen, he let his hand reach up to the buttons and undeid them slowly, agonizingly and teasingly, edging himself with the unharried movements. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, dropping the front of his pants down so his blushing member could spring free. He wrapped his hand loosely around it, reveling in the slow, easy drags that brought a bead of precum to the head. He swiped it with his finger, biting back a moan. His mental image if Katniss transformed, and he could nearly feel the wet heat of her mouth, her powerful grip as she sank down onto him; his fist moved in time with the thrusts of his hips. Peeta was obsessed, unable to contain himself as he continued to fuck wildly into his own fist. 

“Nng, Katniss,” he moaned, throwing his head back as a swimming pressure built in his stomach and balls. He inhaled the smell of her scarf again, and imagining her head falling back and the sound of her voice keeping out his name was enough to send him over the edge. He cried out, a series of expletives mingling with Katniss’ name as his seed spilled over his fist. He felt unreal and raw, a tangled mess of sticky cum and images of Katniss. 

Then, the guilt. He’d touched himself before - despite the warnings, most men he knew had - but as he stuffed Katniss’ scarf back in his pocket, he felt immediately unclean. It was as if he’d tainted their space, their holy ground. He walked to his small, porcelain basin and rinsed his hand, wetting the linen to wipe whatever errant semen had spilled onto his clothes, and stipped down; he couldn’t eat, attend dinner, do anything in these clothes. 

He hadn’t meant his desire to go as far as it had. His words the previous day had only spurred his affections further. Peeta knew, deep within himself, he loved this Princess, as he’d never loved anyone before. 

#

A blush that Kantiss couldn’t explain rushed up her face as Peeta said nothing to her when he opened the door for her Friday morning. Peeta’s cold indifference alarmed her and she felt more and more perturbed as she moved across the room. 

“My lord,” she asked, pausing beside where he sat, staring at the dark linen which covered her portrait. When he looked up at her, his gaze was icy. 

“Why tell me of your feelings and his indiscretions if you, in the next moment, go to his arms when he asks?” Katniss looked at him, nonplussed by his tone and question. She shook her head. “Why draw me on, princess?” 

“I know not what you mean, my lord, but do not appreciate your tone in the slightest,” Katniss spat in return. “Any affection I have given to my fiance was meant to be in private, and as I am-” 

Peeta stood and clutched her shoulders. “Be plain with me, your highness, for I am falling apart on cause of you.” Katniss met his eyes, so blue but still so dark. 

“You have me, my lord. Whatever Moment you witnessed was his doing, and my participation an error in judgement.” For a heart-stopping moment, Katniss thought he may kiss her, and she primed herself for his advances. Instead, Peeta let his arms fall and shook his head as if clearing it. 

“Is this the truth?” 

“The only truth.” 

“I-” Peeta cut himself off. “I apologize for my outburst, my lady.” 

“It is alright,” Katniss murmured. She turned, making to walk to her seat. Peeta grabbed her wrist. 

“Princess, you’ve no idea what a comfort it is to hear those words.” Peeta pushed and Katniss looked over her shoulder at him. “I feared…” 

“What did you fear, my lord?” Katniss prompted breathlessly. The hand on her wrist felt white hot, and she wondered idly how that heat would feel in other places. 

“I feared to lose you before I have ever had you,” Peeta explained. His eyes were dark, and a blush crept up Katniss’ face. 

“You shall not, yet,” Katniss whispered. Peeta released her and she moved to the chair, heart racing and stomach curling nervously. 

#

“Princess,” Peeta said, several hours later. Katniss tipped her face towards him, away from the windswept grounds. “I’ve reached the point at which I can work both in and out of your company.” 

“Oh,” Katniss replied, disappointed. “Of course.” Her heart fell; she’d been afraid of this moment, when she was no longer useful to a cause outside her usual princess duties. She ran a hand over her hair and nodded, brushing invisible dust off her skirts.

“Would… would you like to see it?” Peeta asked. Katniss smiled and nodded, walking to him. She allowed Peeta to wrap her leisurely in his grasp, one arm around her waist; she felt that same budding warmth she did in the garden, but studier, more tactile, ebbing out to her fingers and filling her chest with a fast heartbeat. The painting was not finished fully, this much was obvious. But Katniss still felt her breath catch at the sight. 

The woman who stared into the distance couldn't possibly be Katniss, she was far too beautiful. Long fingers placed themselves delicately over a full, pink mouth and one blush stained cheek. Her hair fell in soft, luminous curls; silver irises gazed out from dark, deep set eyes which looked at once hollow and expansive; her skin was pale but warmer than Katniss had ever felt in her life, and light seemed to be flowing from nowhere and everywhere. Katniss gasped in a few forgotten breaths and leante towards Peeta, fighting tears. 

“You’ve made a terrible mistake, my lord,” Katniss said, gesturing at the portrait. Peeta’s face fell, confused and alarmed, as he glanced between the painted Katniss and the physical one. She shook her head and laughed in spite of his concern. “This cannot possibly be me. You’ve made me far too beautiful.” She looked over the graceful face once more, seemingly staring into that void of light and had to refrain from trailing a finger over the basecoat on the unfinished dress. 

Her statement finally clicking, Peeta laughed loudly and boisterously, filling the room with his effervescent noise. After a moment of laughter, Katniss became acutely aware of his thumb on her hip, rubbing slow half circles into her horribly clothed skin. She closed her eyes briefly at the sensation, trying to memorize its familiarity and desperation. 

“Your highness,” Peeta said, standing from his stool without ever releasing her. His hand trailed over her waist until his fingers dug into her opposite side. If you believe this poor man’s rendition to be too beautiful, then imagine the agony I have faced looking at you all these long days.” Katniss frowned, confused. 

“I don’t believe I understand you, my lord,” Katniss said softly. Peeta stepped forward: now was as good a time as ever to throw all caution to the wind, consequences be damned. He reached out hesitantly, and caressed her cheek, wiping his thumb over her cheekbone. Katniss froze, but didn’t tense, her confusion turning to curiosity.

“To be in a room with you is to be in a room of heaven, your highness,” Peeta whispered. Katniss could feel a tug at the back of her throat, and fought to choke back tears. She pressed her face into Peeta’s hand and grapsed it with one of hers, smoothing the flat of her thumb over the ridges of his knuckles. She expected the moment to end one she touched him, for Peeta to be shocked back into his reality and away from hers. Instead, he stepped forward and, without asking, breathed the ghost of a kiss over her lips. She uttered a soft whimper at the lightness of his touch. The sound seemed to remind him of their situation, and he broke away. “I apologize for the forwardness of my actions,” Peeta said, stooping into a shallow bow. Katniss swallowed hard to stem the flow of tears she knew was upon her. “Your majesty is free to go.” She touched his shoulder. 

“Please stand,” she whispered. He did so, and she stared into his eyes - blue and deep as the ocean. She remembered in that moment seeing it, standing on a cliff overlooking as ships sailed into port harbors on the coast of a large country she’d already forgotten the name of. Her heart pounded as she stepped forward and reached out to twine her fingers through his. “Do that again?” her voice shook with trepidation, and she felt unsure that he would comply. Peeta’s eyes softened, but his brow furrowed. 

“My lady,” he whispered, “if we were to be caught-” 

“I’m not due back for an hour,” Katniss excused, stepping forward again so she was inches from him, her grey eyes boring into his, desperate and demanding. “Kiss me again, Peeta.” Peeta’s heart jumped at the sound of his name from her lips, and he closed the gap between them. This kiss was not gentle. It was hard and demanding and full of unspoken truths between them both. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and his hands pressed into her sides as his tongue slipped between her lips and mingled with hers. Katniss brought her hands down to the edge of his pants, fingers slipping just beneath the line of them at his hips, and Peeta’s head fell back as he moaned. 

“We should not be doing this, your majesty,” Peeta said, though his voice was weak as she kissed and nipped down his neck. 

“Please don’t call me that,” Katniss said between kisses. “My name-”

“Katniss, I-” Peeta sighed. He guided her chin back up with a firm grip, and his lips found hers again. This kiss, so similar in intensity, was worlds apart from that she’d experienced the day before with Gale. She suddenly resented her fiance for stealing her first experience from Peeta; Peeta, however, didn’t seem to mind as he drew them back to her chair and settled her into his lap. His fingers trailed lovingly down the side of her face, warm and welcoming as he pulled away to gaze at her with wild eyes and flushed cheeks. 

“You’ve no idea how long I have wanted to do that,” Peeta whispered, gazing at her longingly. Katniss thought for a long moment. Was this the time to throw everything into the open, risk it all for what Madge said was a desperate scramble at something as fleeting as this sort of affection? She decided it was; she was willing to risk everything if it meant she knew his touch before Gale’s.

“Meet me in the garden tonight,” Katniss said, barely a murmur. Peeta looked concerned. 

“My lady, a kiss is one thing, but…” his words caught in his throat at the look of desperation on her face. 

“Please, Peeta,” she pleaded. “I will never allow any harm to come to you.” She kissed him over and over, small short pecks to his forehead and cheeks, longer, languid ones on his neck and lips. 

“Yes,” Peeta said breathlessly, fingers bruising against her ribs and hips. “But you must stop this assault!” they both laughed as Katniss continued to pepper his cheeks in hot, soft kisses. “Katniss, you will be my undoing.” 

“Never call me anything but my name again,” Katniss whispered, pressing her mouth to his again. When, a while later, Katniss laid her head to rest on his shoulder, eyes closed and face flushed, she knew she’d already come undone, perhaps even the second she had laid eyes on him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Sorry if that kiss between Gale and Katniss came out of left field. 
> 
> I dunno when the next chapter is gonna go up but you shouldn't have to wait too long. <3 Keep the comments up, I really appreciate them. _xx -Olive_


	12. Touching Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consummation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi,   
> Fun chapter today! Not a lot to add here, just enjoy, but remember: this work is rated explicit, and I should warn: This chapter is NSFW!

The plan was set as soon as she was able to catch Madge on her own. She’d already drank the bitter, herbal concoction her older friend had pushed on her, something Madge said Sae used for many of the ladies over the years. Madge had left Katniss’ quarters one half-hour ago, patrolling the path she was meant to take, which meant sidling silently past her mother’s room, trying not to attract the attention of the cleaners in the basement kitchen, and escaping the notice of anyone patrolling the manor at night - a rare occurrence, but something that nonetheless happened on occasion. Katniss was nervous, but felt confident in her approach, even if her anxious pacing and hand-wringing indicated otherwise. 

The three sharp knocks that sounded against Katniss’ door after about forty minutes were Madge’s indication that all was clear; Madge would stay with the ladies until she saw Katniss’ indication that she’d returned - alone: her favorite silk scarf tied around the knocker. It was simple, which made it all the easier to mess up. Katniss slipped from her room and nodded at Madge, who smiled a secretive smile and waved her on her way; Katniss eyed her mother’s and sister’s rooms with trepidation as she walked slowly, her shoes clutched in one hand, the sound of her socked feet shuffling low against the rough stone. 

Once on the last stair to the garden - her walk was successful and entirely undisturbed - she pulled her shoes on, struggling only briefly against her stays. The night was cool and dewy, leaving the edge of her skirt damp and cold. She scanned through the dark, the waxing, though nearly full moon all there was to guide her. Even encumbered by the resolute darkness, she found her way through the steady moonlight and to the place they’d agreed on. Peeta already sat there, face upturned and eyes closed, basking in the clear, blond moonlight; they were both fully occluded from glances and unsearching eyes. 

“You’re very quiet,” he whispered after she stood watching him for a long moment. “The skirts give you away, though.” His eyes popped open and he stood, drawn to her as if by a wire or line. After only a moment's hesitation, he pulled her in by her hips, silently begging her to make the first move. She didn’t know how, and Katniss stood, frozen with nerves, until instinct between them took over and their mouths crashed together, teeth knocking and gasping. A full body shiver took over Katniss as he drew her back to the bench, hands already half-way to yanking up her skirts. 

There was no such thing as too fast; everything was too slow, encumbered by her skirts or his buttons. Peeta pressed her into the bench and kept his mouth against her, trailing it over her jaw and down her neck; he suckled lightly on the skin there, not hard enough to leave a mark. Katniss felt like she would explode from the pressure building within her; so when one of Peeta’s spit slicked digits pressed easily through her already wet folds to her entrance, she gasped in surprise. Time slowed to a mere crawl between them, noiseless and serene aside from the rustling of her skirts. She begged with a half-hushed moan, her skin feverishly hot as he dragged his finger up and down against her. Mewls and gasps of pleasure escaped her and Peeta pressed a firm kiss to her knee as he kneeled in the damp grass path in fron to her, sliding one finger slowly inside her. 

It pinched at first, and then again when he pressed another digit in her slick opening, a new and strange sensation, but Peeta’s other hand found a sensitive part of her mound she hadn't known existed and rubbed while moving inside her. She gripped his shoulders, the bench, ran her fingers through his hair. Nothing felt right as waves of pleasure washed over her, tingling through her extremities, numbing her fingers and lips. 

“Peeta,” she whined, head falling back against the hedgerow behind her. 

“Say it again,” Peeta growled against the inside of her thigh, voice low and untethered. 

“ _Peeta_ ,” Katniss repeated, searching for his face; he had ducked beneath her skirts with a feral noise, and that same sensitive bit was met by his hot, wet tongue. The sensation was immediately not enough and yet too much. She cried out as his finger worked inside her and his mouth moved sensuously on her mound. Her vision blurred and a high buzzing interrupted her hearing as her body felt at once like lightning and a puddle. Her moans were rendered soundless as she tensed around his finger and head. It wasn’t until she spasmed and giggled that he released her, drawing away. He wiped his mouth crudely on the back of his hand and sleeve, gazing at Katniss with a sort of reverence that made her blush. 

“You are so incredible,” Peet whispered, rising to press a soft kiss to her lips. She could taste the salty tang of her own skin and knew she should care, but couldn’t find it in herself to. 

“Peeta, I-” Katniss faltered, feeling unsure. “I don’t know what to do now,” 

“Well, princess,’ Peeta replied with a grin. “What do you want?” 

“You,” she murmured. Peeta slid next to her on the bench. Katniss felt still boneless, but let him sit her up and brush a few leaves from her hair. 

“How do you want me?” he asked with a rough voice. 

“I-” Katniss stuttered and glanced down to the bulge in his breeches. 

“My princess,” Peeta laughed, sweetly sweeping a hand over her face. “So pure.” Katniss frowned at the expression and reached towards his buttons. It couldn’t be that difficult, if Peeta figured her out so fast. His laughter died in his throat as her fingers ghosted over his erection, hard and hot in his pants. Peeta licked his lips and watched as Katniss slid to the ground in front of him, wetting the front of skirts on the grass. A low, loud groan escaped Peeta as he helped Katniss pull his cock from its linen confines, her eyes growing wide as it bounced free. Blushing, she wrapped her hand gingerly around it, testing the heft and weight. Katniss had never seen this more masculine part of a human, but felt sure that with its slender, lengthy curve, Peeta’s was superior by far. She glanced at him, licking her lips.

“Show me?” her voice was barely audible, but Peeta moaned at the words and nodded enthusiastically. He wound his left hand over her right one and increased her pressure, then began pulling their joined hands up and down. Between the amazement of her gaze and the feeling of her small, warm hand wrapped firmly around his cock, Peeta knew he wouldn’t last long. Katniss’ next question nearly through him over the edge on its own. “Can I- like you did with-” she shook her head at her nerves and cleared her throat. “Can I put my mouth on you?” She dipped her head closer to him. 

“Princess, you do not have-” 

“But I _want_ to, my lord,” Katniss said, her hot breath floating onto the tip of his member, making it twitch and him moan. He nodded slowly and threw his head back with a chest-rumbling grumble as she experimented with her tongue and lips and insides of her cheeks, finally settling on bobbing lazily while both hands worked his shaft. One of his hands found her hair and laced through it, just to feel the way she moved. The warning was a tightening in his balls, and he slowly peeled her off. 

“Please,” he whispered. “If you keep with that, I will have nothing left.” Katniss blushed and nodded, allowed Peeta to pull her up and onto his lap. “I must ask your permission. It is only right of a common man to be sure the future queen is comfortable with her activities.”

“You,” Katniss laughed, smacking his arm playfully, almost lovingly. “Do with me what you will.” Peeta grinned. 

“That is the greatest sentence ever uttered, Katniss.” He lifted her and turned them, placing her gently onto the bench while he knelt on one knee beside her. He fumbled with her skirts until she was exposed to the open air. Peeta quietly reveled in the smooth skin of her thighs, light as parchment. He moaned before he even touched the heated felths. 

“Peeta-” Katniss whispered wantonly. He fisted his hand around his erection and stroked once before aligning his head with her entrance.

“This may ache, I am told,” Peeta whispered. “Stop me if it is too painful.” He pushed in slowly and was immediately right - if his fingers pinched, this burned and wrenched. She tightened her fingers on the bench and whimpered. Peeta stopped at the noice, concern painting his face wan. 

“Please,” Katniss said, tugging on his loose painters smock. “Keep going, it will pass.” Once fully sheathed within her, Peeta gave her a moment to adjust to the length - which was neither below average nor overlong. He waited for the expression on her face to change from pained to pleasured. He saw it in the creeping blush, the droop of her lids, and began rocking his hips against hers, slowly and carefully, trying to elicit any sound. Katniss closed her eyes and huffed out a few short, sharp breaths before she pulled on him. 

“More,” she moaned. Peeta bit back a growl and reached forward. He wound her legs around his waist, then drove into her faster, letting her feet against the small of his back control the pressure. She pushed him in hard each time he began to pull out, letting keening moans and soft gasps fall from her lips. Her wet heat felt like heaven around his cock; his hands fell on her waist, her thighs, her face; they brushed away the hair that had stuck, sweat soaked despite the cool air, to her forehead behind her ear, and caressed over her chin and lips. When she laved his thumb with her tongue and sucked it into her mouth, he swore quietly and gripped her hip hard enough to leave bruises with his free hand. 

“Fuck, he swore lightly. “Shit, Katniss, shit.” 

“Peeta-” Katniss stuttered. “S-so… good.” 

“So good,” he confirmed, nodding. Each stroke was like fire - he could feel the flames being stoked in his belly and gasped out indecipherable words as his climax closed in around him. The slick sounds of their sex echoed through the deserted garden, and Katniss’ fingers dug hard into his wrists as he leaned down to suckle on her earlobe. “Oh- Katniss-” he murmured, his grip becoming erratic. Each thrust, so easily punctuated by another stroke of her legs, became arrhythmic, and he threw his head back and groaned low and long as his climax hit him. She followed him with a strangled cry as his hips fell against hers, a sound like a sob ripping from her chest as she pulled his head down. Their mouths met in sloppy gasps. Exhausted, she melted back against the bench and let him pull out, pulling her down to cradle her in his arms on the grass. 

“You have officially broken me, my lady,” Peeta whispered. “I may never want for a woman who is not you again.” Katniss laughed and turned her head to face him. He was flushed, with dark eyes and curls askew, stuck to his neck and temples. 

“Perhaps,” Katniss siad, “but perhaps it is you who has broken me, Peeta.” Katniss allowed herself to lay on the grass a moment longer, then pushed herself sitting. Peeta whined at the loss. 

“Must you go?” Katniss flicked her gaze back to him sladly. 

“I must,” she confirmed. “But I will be in your chambers tomorrow, yes?” 

Peeta shook his head. “What I have must dry a while, my lady.” 

“Then draw me for yourself.” Katniss leaned back down to kiss him, her stomach swooping and her joints quivering. “Tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow,” Peeta whispered. Through closed eyes, he could only make out the sweep of her many skirts and the tap of her shoes up the stairs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. More in a couple days, I'm sure. xx -Olive


	13. Waning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta draws Katniss; Katniss seeks council.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi,  
> Thanks for all the great feedback in the last chapter. There's a little bit of smut here too! Little bit of a longer chapter; I hope you enjoy it. Get to reading!

A long, low sigh escaped Katniss, and she looked from the window to Peeta as he continued to sketch with charcoal on a large sheet of paper. She leaned forward and picked up her cup of tea off the table. The scratching of Peeta’s charcoal against the paper was soothing to Katniss; she took a few small sips from her teacup and watched him. A few of Peeta’s loose curls fell in front of his eyes and he pushed them away with a frustrated noise. It left a small streak of charcoal on his forehead. Katniss giggled. The noise, still foreign to Peeta, caused him to look up.

“What?” he asked. She shook her head and covered her mouth. 

“You have charcoal on your face, my lord,” Katniss whispered over the edge of her teacup. Peeta looked down at his hands and laughed. 

“Can you hand me the towel from beside my wash basin?” Peeta asked, smudging something else on the paper and looking at it contentedly. Katniss nodded and set her teacup down before she rose and moved to Peeta’s vanity. She tried to ignore the mirror, where she could the pleasurable flush of her cheeks as she picked up the linen cloth and brought it back to Peeta. Katniss tried to sneak a glance at his drawing, but Peeta held a blackened hand over it and smirked. 

“Unless you want to meet the same fate as my forehead, avert your eyes, princess.” Katniss eyed his hands wearily as Peeta feigned bringing them closer to her dark blue dress. 

“If you bring your filthy charcoal hands any closer, I’ll scream,” Katniss teased as she wiped the smudge of charcoal off Peeta’s forehead. He brought them close to her again as Katniss leaned to brush a kiss over Peeta’s lips. “Don’t test me, Mister Mellark,” she warned. He gave her a sultry look. 

“Maybe I want you to scream, princess,” Peeta said, his eyes darkening slightly as he looked at her. He moved the paper and drawing board from her lap and beckoned her towards him. Katniss raised a brow. 

“We could be caught,” she mouthed. 

“I fucked you in the bushes last night,” Peeta growled, his voice husky as Katniss settled onto his lap, pulling her skirts up around him, “and you are worried about being caught in private chambers?” 

Katniss gripped his each of his wrists in each of her hands and drew his arms over his head, where he let his hands fall behind the back of his chair. She gave him a meaningful look as her hands snaked down to his breeches and she whispered in his ear. “Is it not thrilling, though,” she began, fingers working to unbutton his pants, “the idea of being seen, getting caught.” Peeta moaned as she slipped her hand into his pants and wrapped her skinny fingers around his already half-hard cock. She dipped down to kiss him as she stroked gently; their lips had barely met when there was a knock at the door. Katniss moved off of him swiftly, and he tucked himself back into his breeches. Both were thankful for the dark fabric of his pants as he picked up his drawing tablet again and Katniss stood facing the window. Heat curled up her face, and she knew it was pinking darkly. She gazed out at the rain which had recommenced since the night before, a light spray that coated the entire garden in a misty haze. 

“Enter,” Peeta called, looking towards the door. Katniss looked over her shoulder and her heart dropped into her stomach as Gale entered the room. He bowed deeply to Katniss, though she didn’t miss the look of surprise at her presence. She felt suddenly conscious of the bright flush on her skin and Peeta’s, but as Gale rose he seemed not to notice. Katniss curtsied lightly and Peeta steeled himself before standing, catching her eye to glance briefly at the slight bulge in his pants. Katniss sat back in her chair and stared out into the garden, trying to pinpoint the spot she and Peeta had occupied the night before; it was too deep in the maze of shrubbery, hidden as she knew behind a tree and between bushes. 

“Lord Hawthorne,” said Peeta. Katniss watched him dip into a short but polite bow. He seemed reluctant to set down his tablet, but leaned it against the chair, the drawing facing away from Gale. “A surprising guest, I will admit.” Katniss cleared her throat and smiled at Gale. 

“I wanted to see the progress of the painting,” Gale said. Katniss’ heart jumped into her throat now, and she swallowed against the beating of it. They were not set to work on the portrait today, as it needed the time to dry; it was only a few days from completion, as well, if Peeta worked hard at it. Katniss bit her lip as her eyes flashed to Peeta. “That was what you were working on, was it not?” Katniss could hear the suspicion and danger in Gale’s tone and fought hard to stay silent, allowing Peeta to deal with the mess they had both created. It was a dangerous web of lies they had woven, she knew that now. 

“It is drying,” Peeta replied, his voice blessedly calm. As he gathered his hands around his back, she could see them shaking and wanted nothing more than to clutch them in her own to steady them. She looked back out the window at the sky, clearing from a weeks worth of rain. “I require a few more days of work on it, just touching up and one last round of color on Her Majesty’s dress.” 

“So, you’ve not completed it?” Gale asked. Katniss rolled her eyes hard at the question. _Is that not what he just said,_ Katniss thought to herself sarcastically. 

“That is a simpler way of phrasing what I just said,” Peeta replied coolly. Katniss cleared her throat again. 

“Something to say?” Gale asked her. 

“Oh, no,” she said, looking back between him and Peeta, who faced resolutely away. “Something in my throat, perhaps a millet husk.” She smiled at Gale, glaring daggers at the back of Peeta’s head when the former turned back to face him. 

“As you’ve been informed, my lord,” Peeta continued, more politely, much to Katniss’ relief, “we’ve extended the deadline-” 

“I would have thought an artist of your caliber to finish much faster, Mister Mellark,” Gale replied, cutting him off. “I’ve had my wedding postponed for this painting, though I’m not sure why.” Katniss shook her head and looked away from the men, leaning forward to pour more tea from the teapot into her cup. 

“My lord,” Peeta protested. “I have never painted a monarch - or future monarch - before, and wish for the painting to be up to her very high standard.” His voice shook with barely contained anger. “If this is not your wish, perhaps you can convince her otherwise.” 

“Of course not,” Gale said quickly. He glanced at Katniss, who kept her face firmly turned to the window, sipping tea quietly as she watched the daily maintenance take place in the garden. A tense silence filled the room, one that Katniss wanted to stand and escape from. She had so little time left with Peeta, however, that she tolerated the strength of the resentment. “If the painting is drying, does that mean you are done with Her Majesty for the day?” Gale asked finally, his tone brisk.

“No.” Katniss’ own voice was firm as she looked away from the window and towards her fiance. She glanced at Peeta and then made eye contact as Gale turned slowly towards her. His eyes narrowed as they met hers. 

“No, your majesty?” Gale asked, surprised by her sudden interjection. 

“That is what I said, my lord,” Katniss replied sarcastically. “I’ve commissioned Mister Mellark for an additional project.” 

“Oh?” Gale asked, turning back to Peeta. Katniss prayed he could lie, even a touch. 

“Yes,” Peeta said, gesturing to his charcoal drawing of Katniss, which faced away from Gale. “It was meant to be a surprise for you.” Katniss breathed an internal sigh of relief. 

“I see,” Gale said, glancing down. He looked between the two. “And when do you imagine you will have the portrait finished?” He shuffled impatiently. “We were meant to be married at the end of this week, though I’m sure you know of the alternate plans.” 

“Lord Hawthorn, if I had an appropriate estimate, I would give it to you,” Peeta said, his tone bordering on rude. Katniss bit the inside of her cheek to keep laughter from bursting out of her. “I will assure you that it is not my wish to… keep anyone waiting.” Gale scanned Peeta’s face, his eyes roving from eyes to lips and then looking to Katniss. 

“Your majesty will forgive the intrusion,” Gale said with a touch of bitterness. Katniss nodded. 

“Of course,” she replied happily. “I will see you at mass tomorrow morning.” 

“Ah, yes,” Gale clapped Peeta on the shoulder. Katniss saw him stiffen almost imperceptibly., “You will have to join us for the hunt, Peeta. It’s a Sunday tradition on my estate.” 

“I wish I could,” Peeta replied, shifting subtly so Gale’s hand fell from his shoulder. “However, I feel obligated to attempt work that does not require K-” Peeta caught himself and swallowed Katniss’ name quickly. “Her… Majesty’s presence.” 

“Oh, I-” Gale stammered, glancing between Peeta and Katniss, whose lips were pursed. “I don’t mean to rush. You are welcome, and in any case, how often will you be granted privilege to see the future queen hunt with the men of her home?” Peeta glanced back at Katniss. He looked mildly surprised; she raised her eyebrows suggestively. 

“The decision is yours, Mister Mellark, but we prefer work not be done on Sundays but for the cooking,” she cleared her throat, “and we all participate in the cleaning and preparation of the animals.” She was anxious for the conversation to end so she could resume her day with Peeta. They were so quickly becoming shorter and shorter, and she feared the day when she would see him no longer. Gale nodded once then inclined his head in Katniss’ direction. 

“Her Majesty is correct - we try not to allow our estate to work on the Lord’s day other than what is necessary.” He cleared his throat. “I must take my leave, but I am happy to hear the painting is nearing completion.” He bowed low in Katniss’ direction. “Your majesty,” he said reverently. 

“Lord Hawthorne,” Katniss sighed, looking back out the window, expression bored. Gale left the room without another word to Peeta, who waited for the door to close before he let out a soft, impatient groan. Katniss sighed again and covered her mouth as a low laugh escaped her. Peeta looked at her in awe, then stepped towards her and sank to his knees in front of her. “Every part of me finds that conversation repellent. And my emotions for him wane further everyday.” 

“God,” Peeta said, laying his head on her lap. She brushed her fingers through his flaxen curls and gazed at him. “I am sorry, my dear.” 

“Our time together is coming to an end,” Katniss whispered. Her eyes were glazed with tears. “I never imagined I would feel for someone the way I feel for you.” He looked up at her as she stood, taking his hand in hers. They were still grey with charcoal, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She settled Peeta in her seat and resumed the position she’d taken before being interrupted. Her skirt rustled as she moved to sit across him. 

“Your majesty, the window,” Peeta said as Katniss began unbuttoning his breeches once more. There were no teasing movements this time, and she didn’t respond to his cautious words but for a shushing sound that escaped her quickly. She slipped her hand in to pull out his cock and began to coax it slowly back to hardness; she placed wet kisses on his neck and kept one of her hands clutched in his. They said nothing more to each other as he grew steadily firmer in her grasp. When she lifted up to settle herself onto him, he shifted to reach his hands up her skirt. He palmed her bare ass as she slowly lowered onto his member. Katniss moaned quietly into his ear as she did, her hands on his shoulders, and began to rock her hips back and forward in time with Peeta’s gentle thrusts. The room was filled with their soft sounds as they ground against each other. Beads of sweat formed on the back of Katniss’ neck and her temples; Peeta’s own curly hair stuck to his forehead and his eyelids fluttered with his gasps as her movements grew faster and stronger. 

“Peeta-” Katniss said in a low, keening whine. Her hands tightened around his shoulders as he began to thrust hard into her, riding her high until she gasped softly and caught Peeta’s mouth in hers, the loud moan she released muffled by his tongue and lips. Her core contracting on his swollen cock tipped him over the edge, and he spilled into her. His fingers dug almost painfully into the skin on her ass, and his head fell forward against her heaving chest as they both moved a few more times together. Katniss shifted off of Peeta, standing briefly to kiss him and very carefully tuck his member back into his pants. Peeta’s hands caught hers as she finished buttoning him up, and he brought them to his mouth. As he kissed her, she could feel his seed beginning to slide down her leg, stick and hot, and she pulled away. 

“You still have that linen, I believe?” she asked him, her voice sultry. Peeta nodded and pulled it from his pocket, holding it out for her. Instead of taking it, Katniss lifted her many skirts to her knee and leaned in. “Clean me, if you will, my lord?” she asked in a soft whisper. Peeta smirked and leaned forward, hands sliding sensually up Katniss’ legs. With lighting quick movements, he yanked Katniss forward and dipped his head beneath her skirts as she yelped in surprise. She felt the linen cloth slide up the inside of her leg, with his lips following on the top of her thigh. Katniss gasped and put her hands on Peeta’s shoulders as he swiped the dry, scratchy cloth gently over her mind and followed the action with a quick kiss and a slow, warm swipe of his tongue. Katniss moaned, which turned to a whine as Peeta backed out from under her skirts. 

“You insufferable tease,” Katniss chuckled, smacking him playfully on the top of the head. She let her skirts fall and yelped in surprise as his hands wound around her waist and pulled her sideways onto his lap. He laughed and let his head fall to rest on her shoulder. She stroked her fingers through his curls. “I will miss you when our time together has ended,” she said softly. 

“Let’s not think on that now,” Peeta said, pressing a kiss to her clothed shoulder. “Just answer me this.” 

“Hmm?” Katniss sighed, her hand caressing his cheek. 

“Have I yet learned how to treat a lady?” he whispered. His tone was teasing but sincere. Katniss smiled. 

“Oh yes,” she replied. “I think you’ve passed with flying colors.” 

It wasn’t for another few hours that Peeta showed her the charcoal drawing she’d so rudely interrupted. Katniss’ face was split by a wide grin, one she didn’t even know she could produce; her hair fell over her face and shoulders in gentle, sweeping waves, dark in some places and highlighted in others. He’d managed to produce a blush on her cheeks with only the dark, chalky substance, and had perfectly emphasised the way her knuckles gripped the arms of her chair. Katniss looked at him and smiled widely. 

“It’s perfect,” she whispered. He tried to hand the large piece of parchment to her, but she shook her head. “You keep it.” 

“And of the lie we told your fiance?” 

“Well,” Katniss said, brushing a kiss over his temple. “There have been worse lies.” Peeta laughed and swung an arm around her waist, careful not to brush her dress with his charcoal darkened fingers. He kissed her hard and long, and yet not long enough. 

#

Katniss’ small hand came to knock on the wooden door. The sound was pitiful against the silence of the hall. At times when she most needed advice, she often felt that her mother and sister simply weren’t enough. She could feel the rosary - unfamiliar on any day but Sunday - settled between her breasts as she stood in front of the door, and pressed a hand to the wooden beads hidden beneath the scarf she’d tucked hastily around her neck after retrieving her prayer beads. 

“Enter,” Archbishop Snow’s calm voice said loudly. Katniss pushed the door open. He stood at the sight of her and bowed reverently. “My lady, this is a surprise.” He stood again and looked at her curiously. 

“May we walk to the chapel together?” Katniss asked. Snow looked at her, a confused expression crossing his face. “I require guidance.” 

Snow nodded. “Of course, my child.” Katniss wound her arm through the archbishops outstretched on and they made their slow way towards the chapel. “What is it you require?” 

“Did you know my father?” Katniss asked. Snow nodded slowly. 

“Yes, he considered joining the seminary for a time as a boy. I counseled him until he met your mother. Nary a finer man there was,” he answered sadly. “But why do you not ask your mother or uncle this?” 

Katniss ignored the question, brow furrowing. “Why did my mother marry him? If I’m correct, she was meant to marry Lord Heavensbee of Yon. Would he not have been a better match? My father was only a hunter.” The archbishop took a long time to consider her question. Katniss held firm to his arm; she had met Snow only twice before this instance: at her sister's baptism and her father's wake. Just as they approached the chapel, a small room off the much larger ballroom, he spoke. 

“Your mother knew of the amnesty between your family and the Coins,” he said as they pushed open the doors together. “Her cousin, Alma, would have inherited the throne before your uncle, as is customary in this country.” Snow escorted Katniss to one of the long wooden pew benches and sat her beside him. “For a long time I thought James merely a way for Her Majesty to rebel, as any royal sometimes does before they step into their role at the throne.” Snow’s blue eyes pierced hers, and his concerned face was creased with age and questions. “Your mother knew her leverage as the only natural heir. She used it to her advantage when it became clear she would marry no other.” 

“So she truly loved my father?” asked Katniss. Snow nodded. 

“I believe she loved him as fully, if not more than she loves Panem,” Snow chuckled and placed a hand on her knee. “God knows the heart of all His children, and provides the love He feels they need.” He watched Katniss’ face sink and tipped his head towards hers, lowering his tone. “My advice for you, dear princess, is the same as it was for your mother all those years ago, though she was infinitely more forward in asking for it.” Katniss edged forward, anxious to listen even as a blush crept up her cheeks. “Would God provide that which is not necessary for the happiness of man? Remember, my dear, it was the pride of man, not the acts, that brought down Sodom,” Snow finished with a nod. Katniss stared at him for a long time, feeling a sell of appreciation for the old man. She placed her hand on his and bowed her head. 

“Do you think my mother would grant me the same clemency her parents gave to her?” Katniss asked without looking up. 

“You will only know if you ask.” Snow stood and brushed his fingers over her head. “I should expect you would like to pray for a time, else we could have stayed in my office, yes?” 

“Yes, Your Eminence.” Katniss had tears in her eyes, but she looked up at the old man nonetheless. “Thank you.” 

“You are very welcome my child,” he replied. “You may seek my guidance whenever you require. Be well.” He bowed and stepped away, his shoes clicking on the hard stone floor. Katniss waited until he had gone then stood and walked down the center aisle between the pews, kneeling when she reached the end. On the wall in front of where Katniss kneeled was a large crucifix, the carved wooden embodiment of Christ hanging from it in disturbing detail. Katniss pulled from beneath her scarf her rosary, and its beads clicked as she pulled it gently off over her head. She held it between her hands as she clutched them together; the cold stone was becoming painful beneath her knees, but she powered on. 

“Forgive me, oh God, for I have sinned.” Katniss spoke quietly, though her voice still echoed off the empty chamber. Her throat felt tight with tears, and one slipped down her cheek, hot and wet. “I have elevated the pride of one day ruling above that which You give unto me.” Another tear fell. “I have so great a love for Panem, but dear Father,” Katniss looked up at the crucifix and allowed tears to fall fast down her cheeks as she choked out the rest of her thought, “but so great a love for Peeta. Guide me, Father, for I know not what to do.” Katniss released her hands, rolling the wooden beads between the fingers of her right hand and thinking hard. She stared up at the statue of Christ for a long time without rising to her feet. 

“Amen,” she whispered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note: at the time period that this story was written in, a good majority of Europe was Catholic, and I've imposed that upon Panem too. I grew up Catholic, but have spent a long time away from the church for personal and political reasons. If you, yourself, are a Catholic and you see errors in my writing or ideas, please let me know!  
> The idea that Sodom was brought down by the emotional and personal failures of its people rather than the actions is one that I spent a long time thinking about. 
> 
> Let me know if you have any concerns about this story and the direction it's going in. Just as a warning, the next chapter features Gale heavily. <3 Love y'all so much. xx -Olive


	14. Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss goes hunting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi,  
> Not a crazy interesting chapter this week, but I thought I should give you guys a little warning ahead of time: there's an animal death in this chapter. It's not horribly gruesome, but it is how you fell a buck when hunting, so if that makes you queasy, it's pretty easy to spot. Just skip over it! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Gale is featured in the first 2/3's or so, just a heads up.

The grounds had finally warmed away the slick mud and wet grasses, and the air beyond the manor was fair and slightly sultry from the light rains the day before. Katniss wore her formal riding gear: a tough linen dress with only a kirtle, no stays, brown and sensible and not at all glamorous; dark, tanned leather riding boots with short wooden heels; woolen stockings; hair tied back in a long plait which ran over her shoulder; simply put, she felt like any other working person, even if she knew that the reality of her station was so incredibly different. In her hand she held a three fingered glove: this she would use when shooting her bow. For now she stood beside her horse and stroked gently down his mane, waiting for the rest of her party and her gear to arrive. 

The clip-clop of horseshoes over softened dirt made Katniss turn; she found herself staring up into the dark blue of Peeta’s eyes. He’d changed from his Sunday best as well, and was wearing riding clothes she had never seen: sturdy linen breeches, hard soled boots, a simple cotton doublet covered by a thick, leather jerkin. He wore a flat cap, which he tipped in her direction. Katniss thought it looked a bit silly. 

“Good morning, Princess,” Peeta said as he slid gracefully off his horse. He landed beside her and kept one hand on the reigns, although the horse showed no sign of moving. Katniss curtsied and looked around when Peeta slid his fingers around her wrist, his thumb pressing gently into her palm. “Mass was pleasant this morning, was it not?” 

“Yes, a sermon on the love of God is always a welcome addition to the typical repetitions,” Katniss replied; she’d felt Snow’s eyes on her throughout mass, his words seeming to have a second implication, even if their forward meaning was direct enough. She felt herself forcing a smile as a footman strode quickly down the stairs. He paid Peeta and Katniss no mind, but still Katniss slipped her hand from Peeta’s grasp and whispered hoarsely to him, “what are you thinking, Peeta?” 

“I wish to see you tonight.” 

“I cannot, you know this. After the hunt there will be no time before we retire to our quarters,” Katniss replied sternly. 

“So after you retire, come and see me,” Peeta coaxed, stepping closer. His smile was roguish, and even as Katniss’ nostrils flared indignantly, she still felt a warmth spread through her like fire.

“My lord, you are incorrigible,” Katniss said, placing her hand gently but firmly against his chest. “Perhaps. I will send Madge if I am able, but do not wait up for me.” Peeta bowed his head once more, though not before winking slyly at her. 

“I look forward to the hunt,” he said as he stepped nimbly back up onto his horse. “I will see you out there, your highness.” Katniss sighed and shook her head in annoyance as he rode off, leaving her with a hot wetness between her legs and a burning in her gut. She turned back to her hoarse. 

“You would never treat one of your ladies so rudely, would you Principle?” she whispered to her steed. The horse snuffed and nickered, turning its long face towards her. “I did not expect so.” A throat cleared behind her and a footman presented her with the long, wooden bow her father had carved for her when she was twelve and a long sheath of impressively fletched arrows. She accepted them both and inclined her head as a _thank you._ The sheath was slung over her chest, a thick band of corded, braided rope holding it in place, and the bow was slung over her shoulder so she could shove her hand carefully into the glove. 

She stepped around her horse and onto the first stair of the manor, braced herself against Principle’s saddle, and pulled herself up, slinging one leg over the side before settling gently onto the worn leather and handling the reigns of her brindle with her off hand; the cool of the leather against her thighs made her stand in the stirrups, and she tucked her skirts between her legs after glancing around surreptitiously. “Katniss!” came her mother’s sharp, chiding tone, and she groaned internally. Never was she meant to mount the horse on her own, and she knew her mother had seen her issues with her skirts. 

“Your majesty,” Katniss said, meeting her mother’s eyes at the top of the stairs. “I apologize, I know it is indescen-.” 

“Nevermind that,” Emily said, taking the stairs carefully. She stood a few stairs up, just above where Katniss said on Principle’s back. “I just wanted to tell you to be careful. It has been a long while since you shot your bow.” She looked her daughter over. “I do not need you hurt before the wedding.” 

“Of course,” Katniss nodded and swallowed hard. “I will do my best.” A few of the other hunters rode up, tipping their heads as they made contact with Katniss, and bowing in earnest - or as much as they could while remaining on horseback - when they saw the queen. Katniss grinned. _This_ was what she was good at, what she’d been waiting for. Today was going to be a very good day. 

#

Gale and Katniss rode side by side at the head of the pack of hunters down a two-horse path in the dim woods. It was just after noon, the sun still high in the sky and the smell of pine tickling her nose. She looked over at her fiance, still feeling frustrated from the strange, strained conversation they’d had the day before and his unprompted, unsolicited kiss in the garden Thursday evening. She glanced over her shoulder to see Peeta watching her, his body swaying easy with the movement of his horse. It wouldn’t do in front of all the men of the court to be as aloof as she had been in days past with Gale, but felt unsure how her actions would be interpreted by the man himself in the future. 

“What are we looking to catch today?” Katniss asked, fiddling the reins between her fingers. She didn't really even need to hold on - Principle knew the way through these woods effortlessly, and her trust in the steed had her knowing she could ride comfortably without the risk of being bucked or thrown. Still, it gave her something to do that wasn’t waiting idly for the next available squirrel, rabbit, or game fowl. 

“Whatever your majesty desires, that is what we will get,” Gale said with a smirk. 

“So, if I wanted to catch a bear, you would find one?” 

“And gut, skin, and cook that bear to your heart’s content, my lady,” Gale replied. She knew he was teasing, that not only would a bear be treacherous to run across, but silly to try to kill. She laughed and waved his comment away. He held up one hand and she yanked gently on the reigns, stopping Principle with only a soft huff. The rest of the party slowed with gentle _woo’s_ and tugs against bridles. Katniss removed her bow and slid an arrow out of the sheath carefully, notching and drawing it back. “Steady,” Gale whispered, holding up one finger. As they waited, a buck, full with antlers stretching towards the midday sky, walked across their path lazily, his eyes scanning the hunters with dubious regard. Katniss released the arrow and it sank through the beasts neck, sprawling it across the ground. Gale jumped down and slit the deer’s throat to finish the job, then raised his hand and whooped loudly. Katniss grinned. 

Her first kill of the season, and she’d downed a full grown deer. The men behind her cheered and rallied, and when she looked back to find Peeta’s face, it was beaming with pride, though something else that she couldn’t quite make out bubbled just below the surface, unhappy but nearly undetectable. She brushed it off as a misperception and smiled brightly back at him. 

“That will not be enough, of course, for the whole court,” Katniss said to Gale as he stood beside her horse, waiting for two men to heft the fallen buck into the wagon attached to two of the horses. He shook his head. 

“No, but one of us had to fell the first kill for the rest to head out on the hunt.” He turned back to the men. “Split ways, though as many can stay with us as they please.” A few of the men broke off from the party, Thom and a few others from Gale’s small court of men included. Left behind were they two, Peeta, Haymitch, three hunters from the Everdeen court, plus the cart. Gale wrapped a hand gently around Katniss’ ankle, one finger fiddling against the laces there. “My men carry game bags,” he said softly. “Hopefully no one else fells anything so big as yours again.” 

“Hopefully not,” Katniss said, gazing kindly down at her fiance. “I am not one to wish myself outdone.” Gale jumped back onto his horse without much struggle, and they both clicked the reigns, heading back down the path. Katniss watched him for a while, his broad shoulders jumping as the horse trotted against the dirt road. He was handsome, yes, but not overly so. His dark features made him more brutish than calculated, and Katniss found the resemblance between them startling, rather than warming. Gale caught her staring at him and frowned slightly at her. 

“What?” he asked, steering his horse closer to hers. 

“Nothing,” Katniss said with a quick smile. “Just thinking.” 

“What about?” 

“All sorts of things,” she replied, looking back down the road. Her ears perked up as she listened for sounds aside from the clacking of her horses shoes, and saw a quick rustle in the brush. With lightning fast speed, she sent two arrows flying. This time, one of her men hopped down to search, pulling up a twice skewered rabbit with a grin. 

“Congratulations, your majesty,” said the man with a smirk. “Were this a competition, I think you would be set to win.” He yanked the arrows loose and wiped the slick surface off on a long cloth attached to his breeches at the waist before handing them back to her. 

“We could make it one,” Gale said sarcastically. 

“You would lose, my lord, handily.” 

“And who told you of the deer?” 

“Who felled it?” 

“Who slit its throat?” 

“You are crude, Lord Hawthorne.” Katniss grimaced and looked away. 

“You take no pleasure in knowing we, together, felled something weightier than the two of us combined?” Gale scoffed. “It must have weighed at least twenty stone, if not more.” He looked her over. “You could not weigh more than seven.” 

“And rude!” Katniss said, laughing. “Crude and rude and unhumble.” 

“Lord Abernathy, assist me,” Gale called back over his shoulder. “Or Mister Mellark. Were you to give credit to the felling of the buck, whom would it go to?” 

Haymitch shook his head. “I am inclined not to answer, but should I be forced I would give the credit to my niece.” 

“And I to Her Majesty, as well,” Peeta said, avoiding Katniss’ eyes. Gale rolled his and turned back forward. 

“I see the tides have turned against me without my men to assist me,” Gale grumbled. He snapped his reigns and headed ahead a bit, leaving Katniss to choose whether to catch up or stay behind. She glanced back at her uncle and Peeta once more, both deep in conversation, and hurried to Gale’s side. 

“Gale,” Katniss said, glaring at him. “Pout no more, it is unbecoming of those betrothed to the crown.” 

“I pout not, your majesty.” Gale was aiming his bow at a turkey moments from taking flight. It fell with a _thwip_ of the arrow and a _squawk_ , and Katniss clapped softly to him, smiling sincerely. One of the men on the cart horses retrieved the turkey. They were making good progress. Further catches such as these, and they would have enough meat to feed the court for the rest of the week - should no one complain about dried or smoked meats. 

#

As Peeta watched the two banter and shoot idly, not always catching what they shot at, he was hit with a powerful wave of guilt. It bubbled hot and heavy in his chest, and he was uncertain where it had come from in the first place. Gale was never one to feel sorry for, Peeta knew, so was it Katniss towards whom he felt the shame of his actions? His conversation about the painting with Haymitch petered out, which Peeta honestly preferred, as it gave him time to consider his situation. Who was he, a painter, a baker’s son, to have an affair with the princess of Panem? Who did he really think he was? He could see the friendship - though perhaps Katniss was right when she said her feelings continued to withdraw from Gale. He could see the way she engaged him - closed, calculated, expectant. All ways she’d approached him their first days together. All reversed now. 

Peeta still couldn’t help but find the situation desperately challenging on his psyche. He loved the princess, that was undeniable, but wished it could be under different circumstances. He wondered if, in a different time, on the same footing, they could love each other freely and unencumbered by this miserable situation they found themselves in. He doubted it, and knew he would have to be happy with what they had. 

But he couldn’t help but feel guilty. Even if there was no reason, even if the love between the pair was absent… he felt as though he was breaking a bond long established before him. And that cut him deeper than anything. 

#

Madge knocked on Peeta’s door late, long after supper had ended and Katniss had retired from her mother’s room. The princess was anxious, antsy, restless, and had sent Madge on this errand, knowing full well the consequences. Peeta answered a long minute later, his smock untucked from his breeches and his hair sleep ruffled. He rubbed his eyes and frowned. “Is something wrong?” he asked. Madge shook her head. 

“The princess wishes to attend you, if you will have her.” 

“I would,” Peeta answered, yawning tiredly. “But the hunt exhausted me. It has been a long time since I rode a horse. Will she understand, or…” Madge knew his meaning exactly and smiled. 

“I believe she was attempting to follow up on a conversation you may have had earlier,” Madge clarified. “If you are too tired, I’m sure the princess will understand.” Madge turned to go. 

“Madge,” Peeta said, voice low. The lady turned, one eyebrow raised. 

“Yes, Mister Mellark?” 

“How do you do it?” he asked, eyes pleading. Madge looked him over and knew precisely his meaning, and felt that self-same surge of guilt she always felt when she thought of her infidelity with Gale. 

“I… when you love someone, Mister Mellark, you make yourself forget.” With that, Madge paced back to Katniss’ chambers, leaving Peeta in his doorway, staring up at the ceiling. He shook his head and closed the door. He wasn’t sure he could forget this guilt. 

#

“He wishes to be alone for the evening, my lady,” Madge said when she entered Katniss’ chamber a few minutes later. Katniss tucked further beneath her blankets, cozy but frustrated. 

“Alright,” Katniss whispered. “Madge, I must ask something of you.” 

“Anything, my lady,” Madge said, settling on the edge of the bed beside Katniss. 

“We’ve had this agreement a few days now, where you distract Gale and I am able to pursue these emotions with Peeta, whatever they be.” Madge inclined her head in agreement. “I have a request: should your feelings change, or anything new appear before you in your relationship, you must alert me at once.” 

“If you wish,” Madge said, “it is what I will do.” She smiled sweetly at her friend. “I want nothing more than to help you, if you will let me.” 

“You are far more gracious than I would be in your place,” Katniss whispered, eyelids feeling heavy. 

“Sleep, your majesty. I will be in to help you dress in the morning and we can speak more then if you wish.” _There is nothing left to say_ , thought Katniss as she slipped quietly into the grasp of sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed and that the hunt wasn't too gross. Keep up the amazing comments, your feedback is always always incredible. xx -Olive


	15. Guilty Tongues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi,  
> We're in the final few chapters of the story, so I'll be updating every day from now on. <3  
> I hope you like this chapter.  
> PS! This chapter is NSFW.

The painting was dry enough to continue, so when Katniss attended Peeta’s chambers Monday morning, he tried to stay focused on the task at hand. The quiet between them was easy, their bellies were still pleasant from bird and venison, and Katniss watched Peeta with a curiosity he hadn’t seen before. It was calculating and judging, very nearly demanding. Only when she spoke did Peeta understand why. 

“Peeta, I tried to attend you last night, but Madge said you turned her away,” Katniss murmured. 

“I was so utterly spent from our ride yesterday, Katniss,” he replied. “My muscles are fatigued even still.” He chuckled. “I would have been a boring companion.”

“I would have been happy just to sleep for some time,” Katniss said, so nonchalantly Peeta almost dropped his paintbrush. 

“My lady, what if-” 

“The only member of court I still concern myself to worry over is my mother,” Katniss scoffed. Peeta cleared his throat and tried to force a laugh. When he looked at Katniss next, he knew he’d been caught out. “My lord, is everything alright?” Katniss asked. 

“I feel at a loss,” Peeta said, pausing his work. “But I would like to have this conversation with the colors on your garment finished, if you would not mind.” Katniss furrowed her brow but nodded anyway and settled more comfortably in her chair. 

#

Neither of them were quite sure how the argument had started and whose fault it was. Peeta had set down his paintbrush and said “your relationship with Lord Hawthorne could have been a good one, and I feel responsible for its demise,” before grimacing at the look of hurt and shock reflected on Katniss’ slight features. When Katniss’ response was bitter and terse, Peeta’s hackles had immediately raised in defense. They’d yelled and paced and stood now at the table, silently glaring at each other, not sure what to say. When Peeta spoke after a long silence, it was low, pleading, and very nearly dangerous in tone. 

“I know not how, but I find myself hurting from our actions,” Peeta said, sparking anger across Katniss’ face. “I know not what your intentions with this affair are-” 

“You are correct, my lord, you do not know my intentions,” Katniss interrupted angrily, “but I promise they were never to injure you.” 

“Then what? If you will not call off the wedding,why do we play these games with each other, with them?” 

“Do you understand nothing?” Katniss’ tone was condescending, shrill and volatile. “I am not permitted to go against this marriage without cause-” She broke off with a frightened look on her face when Peeta slammed a fist down onto the table. Their china clinked and rattled, his brushes rolling back and forth from the action. 

“He has seduced and slept with your best chambermaid for years, insulted and insinuated against you - Haymitch tells me he tried to move the wedding to the day of your arrival here - is the list not long enough for the queen?” Peeta’s raised voice seemed incredulous, and he straightened as he continued. “I should have hoped the contentment of the future ruler of Panem should be as important as hers was - why should she have been permitted to marry whomever she pleased, whomever she loved?” 

“Her marriage was permitted because she was the only heir, love be damned.” Katniss smacked the table, mirroring Peeta’s reaction. 

“It-” Peeta stuttered, shocked nearly into silence. He watched a blush grow up Katniss’ cheeks at the realization of her words. “It was not because she was in love?” 

Katniss shook her head. “She was the only heir,” Her voice was barely a whisper. “And I am not the only heir, Peeta.” 

“But you are in love?” Peeta asked, his tone equally quiet. Katniss nodded. 

“Oh yes,” she whispered. “And how I do love him whom I love.” 

“Tell me of him,” Peeta said, starting to walk around the table towards her, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. The sudden shift in mood should have been jarring, but it was amenable, kind, expected. 

“He is kind,” Katniss said, stepping away from Peeta, rounding the table in the opposite direction, a smile pricking the edges of her lips. “His smile is as nothing compares. His face a piece of the sky. He is beautiful, with flaxen curls and eyes like the sea.” 

“I have never been to the sea,” Peeta remarked. Katniss dipped her head and continued backing away from him, fingers trailing over the rough wood of his table, skimming his papers and charcoal pieces. “Were you to marry him, this man you love, would you show him that which you say his eyes are so like?” 

“And more.” Katniss and Peeta stood at opposite ends of the table again, staring at each other from their switched positions. Peeta placed his hands on the worn wooden surface and leaned towards her. 

“And this man-” 

“He is quite a man,” Katniss teased, a laugh sparking within her words. 

“Yes,” Peeta laughed, “were you to say, kiss him, how would that feel?” Peeta’s eyes watched Katniss hungrily as she reached up to undo the first hook and eye on the front of her shirt. Her bosom heaved with the effort of restraint as she swallowed hard, preparing her answer. 

“As nothing I’ve ever felt,” she replied, unhooking another few loops. “But, of course, this is all presumptive. I could never marry this man, and of course I could never kiss him.” 

“Of course,” Peeta said, licking his lips as Katniss finished removing her shirt. She wore beneath it merely a shift, through which he could see the pert tips of her dark pink nipples; she laid the shirt over the back of a chair in front of her. Katniss slowly pulled at the ties on her skirt; she was thankful evermore for her petite frame now, as she’d been dressed in these improper garments before Madge’s arrival to her chamber. She snaked the skirt down her hips and stepped out of it, laying it gently over the table. She stood before him in only her thin, linen underdress. Peeta’s eyes raked over her. 

“Katniss,” he whispered. She watched him, heat pooling in her belly. She toed off her shoes and walked towards him on silent, stockinged feet. Peeta’s hands took in them Katniss’ face, and he pressed his lips to hers with crushing force before he wound his hands down and around her waist. He lifted her off the ground, only just, but enough to make her gasp so he could snake his tongue into her mouth. Her hands came to grip his shoulders, and she clutched at him as they kissed. “God help me,” Peeta whispered as they broke apart. “You will be my undoing.” The repetition of the words from their first kiss solidified Katniss’ choice, and she sighed in longing. 

“Come to bed with me.” It wasn’t a question or a command, but a statement, a request. Peeta knew he could refuse and she would understand, that there was too much risk involved in undressing totally and climbing between sheets, that being caught naked would be the end of his career and possibly his life. But he looked at Katniss, her eyes a shining silver, and the _no_ he wanted to tell her caught in his throat. He nodded and let her drag him back to his own bed. Once there, he let her unbutton his smock and untie his breeches. Her small hands grazed over the cloth that covered his already semi-hard cock and he moaned, head falling back at the sensation. She unbuttoned him the rest of the way until he stood naked in front of her with his pants around his ankles. She smiled. 

“Miss Everdeen,” Peeta teased, stepping out of his pants while toeing off his own shoes. “There seems to be some misunderstanding about the wardrobe here, it seems you are still fully dressed.” Peeta’s hands found the edge of her shift and he pulled over her head; she yelped and giggled as the cool air hit her skin. Peeta’s eyes scanned her with a sort of reverence she’d never seen before. “Forgive me for my sacrilege, but heaven must be glorious if you are this beautiful.” Katniss blushed and grabbed his hand, saying nothing as she pulled him onto the bed. He hovered over her, resting on his elbows; one hand came to brush errant hairs off her face. “I love you,” Peeta said softly, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Katniss breathed him in deeply. 

“I love you, too,” Katniss whispered, her whole body a mess of tingles and hot skin. He kissed her; their chests brushed together and she moaned as their skin finally touched. This would be their third time making love, and the first time she’d seen him naked. It would be unacceptable not to make the most of it. 

Using all the strength within her, she flipped them by catching Peeta off guard. His eyes grew round and wide, and he gasped out a stuttering breath. She rolled back, sitting over him, so his erection pressed against her mound, the length of it sat firmly beneath the spread of her legs. Katniss watched him, watched his fingers twitch in desperation to touch her, and she pulled his wrists up to her hips, pressed his fingers into the bare flesh there. It wasn’t enough for either of them. Every inch of Katniss’ skin crawled with lust, with a nearly violent need for his flesh against hers. A shift of her hips sent waves of pleasure running through her, and struck a match in Peeta’s eyes, so the blue burned into her, bright and mesmerizing. He moved his hands to her small breasts and cupped them; the calloused palms felt as though they were made for only that task. Katniss ground her hips purposefully this time, with force against his member, and he moaned low, lids fluttering against the sensation. 

“Need you,” Katniss whispered, hands finding the flat plane of his pale chest and digging in, nails biting gently into the skin. “Peeta.” 

“Take me,” he replied, hands slipping onto her back to pull her down. He whispered against the shell of her ear. “I’m yours.” Katniss’ already feral want grew more animal, and she reached between her legs to adjust his cock, pressing down on it with a hiss and a wince before rolling into the feeling of him inside her. 

“Fuck,” Katniss swore, rolling the word over her tongue and nesting her face against Peeta’s neck while her hips slid up and down him and he filled her. “You are-” 

“Shh,” Peeta said, more a moan then a shush, and he palmed Katniss ass as he lifted her, his knees raising so his heels could find traction against the slick silk sheets. This was hard and fast and different than both other times; Katniss whined quietly into Peeta’s ear, trying to keep her tone down. When she felt herself on the brink she gritted her teeth and pressed her face harder into Peeta’s neck, curling her hands into fists in his sheets, trying desperately to cum quietly. 

“Ah,” Peeta gasped as he came moments later, “Katniss.” Holding each other, Katniss let herself slid off his softening cock, curling against his sweat slick skin. Her eyes roved his face, and a small smile slipped onto her lips. 

“I apologize for hurting you, my lord,” Katniss whispered, reaching up to push sweat soaked curls off Peeta’s forehead. He shook his head and nuzzled into her touch. 

“Your love is worth whatever pain I face in the future, Katniss,” Peeta replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Katniss felt conflicted now, because as well as she knew she had to, the last thing she ever wanted to do was to let Peeta go. 

“Peeta,” she whispered. “When you said, before all of this, that you would marry me… did you mean that?” 

“Every word, princess,” Peeta said, his lips still pressed against his forehead. “Every word forever.” 

#

Haymitch found Katniss in the garden a few hours later; she was now properly dressed and trimming a rose plant with the help of one of Gale’s expert gardeners. He cleared his throat to get her attention and she jumped at the sound. 

“Uncle,” she murmured, blushing as she smiled graciously. He tipped into a perfunctory bow. 

“May I have a word with you, niece?” Haymitch asked, more formal than Katniss commonly knew him to be. 

“Of course,” she replied. “Shall we walk?” Her uncle inclined his head in agreement and looped her hand over his arm. 

“It is not expressly permitted, what I am to tell you, and I beg you not repeat it,” Haymitch said as they meandered through the garden. Katniss hummed politely instead of responding, glancing nervously around. Haymitch’s tone lowered to a muted whisper. “I received correspondence from Maysilee, concerned for your wellbeing.” 

“I see,” KAtniss said, pulling them down an unoccupied aisle. They slowed their pace dramatically and Katniss pretended to be involved in a particularly cumbersome group of roses. “What was her concern?” 

“Her niece, Lady Undersee, it seems… well,” Haymitch cut himself off and stopped them. “I feel strange, speaking ill of someone so young, but she seems to have developed some form of idolatry for your fiance,” he paused again and turned to face Katniss, who looked away quickly, unable to make eye contact with her uncle. “Is there something being left out, Katniss?” The princess considered the secret her uncle just revealed and wondered if she could trust him. 

“Tell no one of this,” Katniss said, pulling her uncle back along. “But Madge and Gale are having an affair.” 

“How-” Haymitch stopped them again, looking at his niece crossly. “How long have you known?” 

“It does not matter,” Katniss said, brushing off his question with a wave of her hand. 

“Why have you not informed the queen? Cancelled the wedding?” 

“I need not punish Madge the way my mother punished you and your love, uncle,” Katniss said blythely. 

“Katniss, you do not understand,” Haymitch replied tersely. “My sister- your mother did not- Maysilee was not the heir and I was not meant to be the King Consort.” 

“It is my duty to be married, uncle, who else do you propose take up the role?” 

“A man who will honor and protect both you and the crown!” Haymitch stopped them from walking again, anger in his eyes. “The pride of marriage to you is not meant to go to a man who would throw himself around, especially not to a woman who would send messages of her undying love in such unsure post.”

Katniss balked. “Is that what she said? Undying love?” she choked out. “She said such to her aunt?” 

Haymitch bit his lip and swore. “I meant not to tell you. I knew it would only draw your ire.” 

“You meant to keep it from me?” Katniss could feel her anger beginning to boil and struggled to keep her tone under control. 

“Katniss,” Haymitch said, plowing forward and ignoring her outburst. He wrapped her hand around his arm again and turned them back towards the main walkway. “You must stop this affair before Emily discovers them, or it will be her wrath they will have to contest with, rather than yours.” 

“Allow me to read this correspondence, uncle,” Katniss insisted; grey eyes met grey eyes, and she resolved herself or the answer. 

“No, Katiss, absolutely not,” Haymitch said with a shake of his head. He paused - often, her uncle had the same inability to physically affectionate to those he cared for. Still, he managed to reach out and brush a hand gently down the back of her head. “You need to know no more than that woman is infatuated, and it is of my opinion that it be stopped.” He swallowed hard and bowed gently. “Princess, may your day be pleasant.” 

Katniss nodded and watched Haymitch walk away. A break in trust, a break of their pact - that’s what this was. Ending the affair wouldn’t be enough, and revealing her to the queen would be the height of cowardice. Katniss needed to make Madge remember why it was ending. 

#

Gale watched Katniss interact with her ladies and his gardeners from the top of the stairs to the garden, his chin resting on his closed fist, elbow balanced on his knee. It had taken him years to realize what was running through his head now: he would never be good enough for Katniss. Not that Katniss had higher expectations for him, he’d crushed all of those when his relationship with Madge was revealed. It was more in his ability to be a good husband, his ability to be a good man; he was positive that he would never be able to keep up with her. 

She was so good, and he was so depraved. 

Gale stood and stepped backwards into the shadows: Katniss deserved better. If he was to marry her, he would have to learn how. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Gale's little blurb at the end is annoying as hell, I know, and I felt annoyed while I wrote it, but I have my reasons. <3 xx -Olive


	16. Rememberance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss confronts Madge. A decision is reached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there!   
> Just a quick warning before we get into the chapter, there is a mild verbal and semi-physical altercation in this chapter.   
> On with the content!

Katniss managed to hold herself together through dinner and into the evening, while she and Prim played a few long games of Tables and their ladies watched. Each time Madge reset the game, Katniss felt a hot shiver of anger tingle down her back. It was a miracle she made it to this point. 

“I believe it is time the princess settled in for the evening,” Madge said, eyeing Katniss’ exhausted expression carefully. “She must make an early morning tomorrow if that portrait is to be finished in one week.” Katniss smiled at her girls as Prim and Rue said their own goodnights and swept from the room. 

“Madge, will you assist me in my chambers?” Katniss asked unnecessarily. Madge nodded with a smile. Once in the hall, Katniss gripped Madge tightly by the wrist and stomped across the hall with her; Madge hissed in pain but didn’t reist.

“My lady, what is going on?” Madge asked as Katniss wrenched her door open. She threw her lady into her bedroom and slammed the door behind they two, her face a furious mask. Madge’s own confused countenance blinked wearily at her, and Katniss could practically feel the fear emanating off her friend. 

“I ask you one thing,” Katniss said, swallowing hard. “After our agreement, I ask for you to be honest with me, tell me if anything changes, if your feelings adjust!” 

“My lady,” Madge began, bringing her hands up in defense, as if guarding from a wounded animal, “I have been nothing but honest with you these few days. I apologize for my past discretions, but I swear I have kept nothing from you.” 

“Lies,” Katniss spat, striding forward, ignoring Madge’s defensive hands. “You love him.” 

“I told you I did!” Madge said hoarsely, fear causing her voice to break. Katniss’ slap across her face stung and left a sharp, red handprint, loud and terrifying. Madge gasped and brought her hand up to her cheek. 

“YOU SAID YOU SUSPECTED YOU MAY!” Katniss yelled. “This is _not_ the same thing, Madge!” 

“I beg your forgiveness, Katniss, but you are wrong.” Madge leaned away as Katniss’ hand curled into a fist and an inhuman noise left her. “I told you- I swear I-” 

“I should take this to the queen. I should have your title, his title,” Katniss’ voice was tight, hoarse, steaming. Madge’s face was coated in tears, strained and exhausted. She looked away, fists white knuckled against the foot of Katniss’ bed. 

“Do what you think is best, my lady,” Madge replied. “I would not blame you no matter your choice.” Madge’s forgiving tone, her seeming lack of care for herself infuriated Katniss beyond her current state, but it also confused her. Katniss shook her head, taking a deep breath. Was she overreacting? Why did it matter to her who loved Gale? 

“Madge,” Katniss said, tone low, still dangerous, but without the tinge of venom. “If you were in my place, what would you do?” 

“My lady,” Madge said thickly, her voice quavering through her tears. “If I had the opportunity to be with him whom I loved freely, I would do everything in my power to do that.” Her sob broke through Katniss like ice, and she stepped back, confused and hurt with herself. 

“I-” she said, watching Madge sink to the floor at the foot of her bed. “I am so sorry, Madge.” Katniss moved more slowly now, one hand outstretched in surrender. When Madge looked up, it was not with loathing, as Katniss expected, but understanding. 

“It was never my intention to let it go this far,” Madge spluttered out, reaching out to grip Katniss’ fingers in her own. “I lost myself in it, Katniss.” 

Katniss joined Madge on the floor, the cold floorboards hard beneath her skirts. She let a tear slip down her face as she watched Madge continue to sob in earnest. 

“I cannot marry him,” Katniss said, her voice hollow. Madge sniffed hard and wiped her face on the backs of her hands. 

“What choice do you have?” Madge asked. “Your fate is tied as steadily as mine is.” 

“Prim will make a better queen than I, Madge,” she whispered. It was all so clear to Katniss now. She’d never loved Gale, never wanted this, and her - seemingly obvious - wishes had been ignored, favoring a broken tradition and title over Katniss’ own happiness. So her sister would be thrust a touch further into the spotlight. Wasn’t that, in truth, what she had always desired? “I will abdicate the throne, step away-” 

“My lady, you cannot,” Madge tried to catch Katniss’ eyes, which had become glazed and unfocused. “Your sister is still so young, but you have been in this role your whole life. She has only seen from-” 

“Argue with me not,” Katniss said, holding up a hand. “I’ve made a decision. I must speak with Mister Mellark about this.” 

“But Katniss,” Madge said, biting her tongue when Katniss’ firm gaze flicked to hers. 

“Do you wish to marry my fiance?” Katniss asked. Madge stuttered under Katniss’ severe expression. 

“Perhaps, but I need not marriage to remember I once loved,” Madge’s voice faltered. “Do you really mean to abdicate?” They both rose from the floor as once, and the weight of Katniss’ outburst had her exhausted. Madge’s cheek was still stained pink, and her hands shook with the residual nerves as she began undressing Katniss for bed. 

“I wish not to marry Gale,” Katnisss replied. “And I wish not to have you hurting anymore than has already been done. This seems the only option.” 

“Have you thought to speak with-” 

“I have done,” Katniss interrupted, remembering how her fears were interrupted by the repetition of her duty as heir to the throne. “Her Majesty’s priorities have never been me, Madge.” Katniss sighed and shifted, allowing Madge to pull her arms gently from the long shirt sleeves. An air of gloom settled between the women; if Katniss were truly to abdicate, Madge would be placed as one of the Queen’s ladies until Prim came of age to have as large an entourage as Katniss. She would never be allowed to marry Gale - possibly never see Gale again, beside days when a full court was erected in Capitál. Katniss knew also she would never live normally. Rumors of abdication from various countries always came with the sad stories of exile, ostracism, the fade from the only world she’d ever known. 

If it would keep Katniss from marrying Gale, she would do it. 

If it would allow her to love Peeta in peace, it would all be worth it. 

“My lady, I urge you to think on this a while longer,” Madge said, “for all those involved. I know you wish to be free of this marriage, but,” Madge looked up from where she bent, absently unpinning Katniss’ skirt. “Please think of those around you before you rush to a decision as this, but especially your sister.” 

Katniss stared at Madge, at the warm blush peeling over the older woman’s face, at the place where a bright imprint of Katniss’ hand had been only moments earlier, and bobbed her head in agreement. 

“I will think and seek further council.” Katniss hissed as a pin stabbed painfully into her side. “I regret my anger with you. 

“I will not say it was justified, but I understand you, my lady,” Madge said, tucking the handful of pins into her waist pouch. Katniss stepped out of her skirt and petticoat and breathed a sigh of relief when her stay was finally loosened over her lungs when she looked again at Madge, she noticed the woman attempting to steal herself for something unpleasant. “I could come to Her Majesty in regards to the affair.” 

“You will do no such thing,” Katniss muttered. “I’ll not have you punish yourself for something I so gleefully profit from. I wish it to leave your mind.” 

“Of course,” Madge replied. She cast her gaze down as Katniss climbed into bed. “Whose council will your highness seek?” 

“I know not yet. Mister Mellark first, I think, but perhaps my sister as well.” 

“Do you truly trust him?” 

“As well as I feel I can trust anyone in this state.” Katniss eyed Madge over. “I know of your correspondence with your aunt.” She tucked further into the blankets; a dark flush covered Madge’s chest. “Of course, you would not have known I could learn of it, so my anger was unwarranted, but I urge you to take caution.” 

“I am aware of her restrictions in court,” Madge said, resuming her night chores. She drew the curtains shut, pulled the clothes Katniss would wear and refilled her wash bowl. 

“If I had my way, it would not be such,” Katniss said. 

“Yes, my lady,” Madge replied. Katniss noted the bitter undertone to Madge’s voice.

“Speak your mind. Hide not from me.” 

“Katniss, if you had your way, we would all be blessed. Married for love with my aunt in the court and your engagement to Peeta over Gale. Everyone would fall in love and no one would have to ask whom to marry and when.” Madge huffed and shook Katniss’ petticoat out roughly. “The world is an imperfect sovereign, my lady. The Strafford-” Madge stuttered and sighed. Her eyes were filled with tears to match Katniss’. “The _Everdeen_ court is no better. Changing the name does not disguise its acts.” Katniss nodded; the bitterness about her aunt and frustrations at the blatant disregard for unity had alarmed Katniss at first witness, but she understood Madge more now, all these years into their bond. 

Katniss didn’t spite Madge for her feelings, nor did she feel any of the white-hot anger she’d felt the whole day through. If anything, she felt guilt, but most of all, pity. 

“Do you trust me, my lady?” Madge asked. Katniss considered the question for a long time before answering. 

“No,” Katniss said. “But not because you carried on an affair with Gale. It is because of your inability to be straight with me. Your hiding and lies have forever tainted my view of our friendship,” Katniss said. She felt honesty would be better than lying to Madge or trying to save face. Everything about their relationship and her situation should have infuriated Katniss, but it merely bored her. It was for children, these games and plans and backstabbing. 

One way or another, Katniss would get out of this marriage to Gale. She just had to figure out how. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. More tomorrow! xx -Olive


	17. Abdicate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to post this earlier! Posting from my phone, so sorry if there’s any weird formatting issues. Xx!!

Tuesday and Wednesday passed without anymore mention about abdication from Katniss, but Madge still fretted over the idea. The dirty looks shot at her in the garden and over meals by Lord Abernathy told her all she needed to know of her aunt’s betrayal of confidence. She knew it would have been acceptable to feel hurt, even betrayed, but her heart wasn’t in the emotions she knew were appropriate. She spent Wednesday afternoon mending a pair of Katniss’ stockings and worrying over the princess's decision making.

When the night came, she would have gone to Gale when his valet called, would have allowed herself to be summoned as Katniss wanted her to be, but felt too removed from him to try.

“Please tell Lord Hawthorne his affection is appreciated,” whispered Madge, pushing the poem Gale had written back into the valet’s hands, “but the princess has plans to ride tomorrow and I must be up to help her dress and lay out her riding gear.” The valet nodded; a look flashed over the man’s face, and for a moment it looked like pride, or even pity. But when he turned and left, Madge shook the feeling away. It was her imagination playing tricks on her, the stress of the situation, the web of lies and tangled emotions eating at her ability to claim reality from perception.

Her worry wore on into the morning, leaving her with a stiff back from tossing and turning. It was exacerbated by Katniss’ secret smile and nod as she left. Fear prodded Madge. Would Katniss’ really abdicate? Where would that leave Madge?

Where would that put Katniss?

#

The portrait was nearly complete, drying before Peeta could apply highlights and a varnish. Her heart ached as Katniss looked at him across the long table while he gently cleaned the bristles of his brushes in a bowl of water. His fingers were stained from ochre and indigo, from the lightest yellow to every shade of green and the darkest blue. It was so tempting to sneak a peek at the finished portrait, to look it over and count the places his hands had been. Katniss sat in her chair, however, watching Peeta’s gentle fingers work the brushes clean.

“If I were to tell you we could be married, what would you say?” Katniss asked offhandedly. Peeta choked while taking a sip of tea and frowned across the table at her.

“I would be overjoyed,” Peeta stated matter-of-factly, but still narrowed his eyes. “But how, my lady?”

“I may abdicate,” Katniss whispered. Peeta set down his cup and stood, striding around the table. He looked down at her, and when Katniss met his eye, his face was a hard mask.

“You are not serious, Katniss,” Peeta said.

“I am,” Katniss replied. She turned in her seat to face him. “It would permit us to marry.”

“And prevent you from the throne and ever living a normal life.”

“But I could marry you! That is the life I desire,” Katniss protested.

“But it is not the life I desire for you,” Peeta shook his head and kneeled beside her chair. “I want you all the happiness I can possibly grant you, but you would not be happy as merely a painter's wife.”

It was Katniss’ turn to stand, her chair squealing against the floorboards of his room. “You do not know what would make me happy.”

“I know that this is not it!” Peeta yelled, losing his temper. He stood and began pacing the room. “My love for you as we are now is enough to sustain me. Why can it not be enough for you?”

“How can you ask that?” she retorted, her tone cold and brisk. “I am to marry a man whom I do not love and you speak as though that does not bother you.”

“It does! Katniss, I would rather die than see you marry him, but what is our choice?”

“This! If I were to abdicate, I could marry you tomorrow,” Katniss said beseechingly. Peeta shook his head.

“I will not marry you should this be how it is done,” he clutched his hair and turned away from her.

“Then you lied,” Katniss whispered. Peeta shook his head.

“No, Katniss, I did not. If we were different people, if there was another way, if our lives had been… changed, I would marry you in an instant.”

“You…” Katniss’ face fell when she realized the truth of his words. After a moment, her resolve hardened, but Peeta was already speaking again.

“It kills me to say, Katniss. But I will not take away that which you have spent your whole life working towards.” His tone was quiet, but his words were still laced with anger.

“I want more than-” Katniss began to insist.

“You cannot know what you have never been without!” Peeta yelled over her, stomping across to Katniss and clutching her shoulders. His fingers dug almost painfully into her arms and her eyes were wide. He shook his head slowly back and forth. “You have never been a common person. It is not luxurious or entertaining-”

“But I would be with you-”

“I am not enough.” Peeta released her and stepped back, his teeth gritted; he knew he looked mad, with his rustled hair and eyes wide with fear and anger. Katniss’ own eyes were running with tears and Peeta felt a wave of guilt wash over him. “If you abdicate your throne, it will forever tarnish our relationship. You will only see me as a reason you lost your life, rather than as a lover or a friend.” He reached out, and she allowed him to gather her into his arms and press a kiss to her hair. “I won’t be the cause of your unhappiness. If you will allow me, I would much rather make you happy these last days we have together.” Katniss pressed her face into his shirt and breathed him in deeply. He smelled of musk and turpentine and linseed oil. She nodded and pulled back.

“I must go, for a short time,” Katniss said, extracting herself gently from his embrace. “If you would join me and my girls for supper, I would be most honored. I am sure they would love to hear of those you have painted.”

“Of course,” Peeta said with a sad smile. “Anything for you, princess.” Katniss felt a bitter twinge at the phrase and bit back the retort that sprung to her lips. She smiled up at Peeta as she stepped away, trailing her fingers down his arms.

“You will show me that portrait before my mother, will you not?” Katniss asked as she stepped to the door, ignoring the thick tension that spread between them, new and not at all inviting. He nodded but couldn’t look at her.

“It will be finished before the day is out, my lady,” Peeta said softly. “I know you are meant to ride today. Go, I hate work I must finish.”

Katniss took this dismissal in stride, letting herself out of the room after hesitating briefly by the door. Peeta was sorting through his pigments, finding the ones he needed to finish her portrait. He still wouldn’t - or perhaps couldn’t - look at her, and his face was flushed an angry, blotchy red. She looked down at her feet and closed the door behind her, then stepped into the hallway, chest tight with more unshed tears. She was confused and hurt sas she made her way back to her chambers; she’d thought this was what Peeta had wanted - could have bet her life on it twelve hours ago. Now she questioned his loyalties, his love; their whole relationship was under duress.

Katniss was crying in earnest by the time she stepped into her room. Madge sat beside the window reading a long piece of parchment and smiling a little to herself.

“My mother wrote, she wishes you luck in your union,” Madge said, looking up at Katniss. She furrelled the scroll closed when she saw Katniss’ state. “My lady, what is-”

“He will not marry me,” Katniss wailed, too loud for Madge’s comfort. She rushed forward as Katniss collapsed by the door, her skirts cushioning her fall as she continued to weep into her hands. “If I abdicate, he will not marry me. I believe he has never wanted to.”

“My lady, I promise you this is not true.”

“How should you know?”

“Because Mister Mellark does not strike me as a man who would lie to receive a princess as his bedfellow, Katniss.” Madge’s tone was harsh, and it stirred Katniss from her state. She sat up and stared despondently around the room.

“I think I will not go riding today.”

“Perhaps that is wise, my lady. You can go tomorrow, but the queen wishes your company in the morning.” Katniss nodded. Madge reached forward and placed a hand gently on Katniss’ arm. “We’ve only five days until your wedding. Perhaps you should consider other options.” Katniss looked at her, but the princess's eyes were hazy and unfocused, filled with unshed tears.

“Iw ould like to go home tomorrow, Madge,” she whispered. Her eyes seemed to see for miles. “I grow tired of my time here.”

“Shall I inform the queen?”

“And let Mister Mellark know I will not be holding supper in my chamber tonight. One last large meal before we leave.” Madge nodded and silently hurried from the room.

#

Gale knew some sort of bond was forming between the pair as soon as Katniss’ scarves started disappearing and Madge began reappearing in his bed, after she’d promised an end. He couldn’t fault Katniss, and if she was truly unfaithful, it was his fault, not hers. Still, as he rounded the corner and saw Katniss’ tear stricken face entering her bedroom, he knew something was off or wrong. He sat in his own chambers now, tapping his quill against a thin sheet of parchment, trying to decide between writing the complex waves of emotion now rocking in his head or memorizing his promise to Katniss that would take place in only five days. He swallowed hard and began jotting down ideas he had, promises he would make, trying to convince even himself that this lowly approach at betterment was the first step towards a happy union with his oldest friend.

A knock sounded at his door and when he turned, Madge was already stepping into the room. She looked weary, exhausted and belabored by information he knew she wouldn’t shared.

“We are leaving tomorrow, my lord,” Madge said, dipping into an unnecessary curtsy. Her formalities told him that her presence was merely temporary, and more for etticut rather than pleasure. He nodded and looked back down at his parchment.

“Has the princess changed her mind on the extension of our time here?” he asked, eyes moving back to her. Madge’s face was flushed as she nodded.

“She grows weary at being so far from home. I believe it will end the wait for your union,” Madge said. Her voice was controlled, though he knew that if he pushed hard enough, he would hear the waver.

“And of us?”

“We must end.”

“I… yes, you are right,” Gale admitted, though his chest felt tight. Madge stepped forward slightly and watched him for another moment.

“What do you write?”

“A promise to Her Majesty. An atonement.”

“I see.”

“I am sorry for us, Madge,” Gale said softly.

“As am I,” Madge replied. Her voice cracked and she held a hand quickly to her throat. “I must go, I have other news to carry. I simply thought it would be courteous to alert you of the changes.”

“Of course, I appreciate your thought.”

“Good day, Lord Hawthorne,” Madge whispered. A tear streaked down her face and she swiped it away quickly, turning to the door. She was gone before he could respond.

“Good day, Lady Undersee.” Gale turned back to his note. A few tears fell on the paper as he read the most recent line to try to remind himself of his place: _if only I could have understood in advance the damage I may have caused you, I perhaps would not have carried on how I did._ Gale took a deep breath and picked up his quill, dipping it again into his ink. _Your friendship has been one I truly cherish, even if, as you say, I do not know how I love you. Perhaps I don’t. These weeks have taught me well, and more than any years learning could have._

_I could have done everything differently._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. See you tomorrow! XX


	18. Convincing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 Hope you enjoy. Please note, there really are only two more chapters left!

Katniss couldn’t bear to sit alone, thinking about everything she’d done. Her heart pounded at the idea of being married to Gale - with what she knew of him, with her inability to see him kindly or want to share space with him, it was all but futile. Even still, she would leave the manor the next day, and be married by Saturday. She closed her eyes and paused her pacing to try and steady her breathing. It wouldn’t be so bad - it could _not_ be nearly as bad as she was pressing herself to believe it would be. They were friends, were they not? She resumed her pacing back and forth in her room before she finally decided to leave and seek council. Her sister would have to do for now. The hallway was blessedly empty, and it only took a few moments for Rue to answer the door. She smiled softly at Katniss and gave a short curtsy before ushering Katniss into the room.

“I wasn’t expecting-” Prim said, looking up slowly from the flowers she was sorting out to dry. At the sight of Katniss’ grief stricken face, Prim’s brow furrowed. “What has happened?” 

Katniss sniffed and glanced back at Rue, who stood by the door as if waiting for the princess’s next words. “Leave us, please,” she said to the young woman, who nodded and quickly took her leave. Katniss toed off her shoes and moved to lay on Prim’s bed, settling in and breathing gently against the pressure of her stay. “We leave tomorrow, instead of Monday.” 

“I see,” Prim whispered. “Why?” 

“I wish to be home.” 

“As do I. But, sister, it was not even a few days ago you seemed contented. What has changed?” 

“The portrait is finished. I have realized my union with Gale will be lackluster and convenient, so it is better to get the marriage over quickly and settle back into normal life.” 

Prim stood and joined Katniss on the bed. Her head rested close to Katniss’ shoulder, and she didn’t press the issue, merely waited for Katniss to elaborate. When Katniss stayed silent, Prim tucked in closer, curling against Katniss and closing her eyes. Before either lady knew it, they were asleep. 

Katniss’ dreams were hazy and confusing, though when she woke blearily a few hours later, she recalled the soft breath and gentle timbre of Peeta’s voice. Prim slept on soundly beside her, and even through Katniss’ stiff ribs from sleeping in her stay, she felt comforted by her sister’s presence. Looking at the girl’s blonde hair and her thin face, so youthful in sleep, she tried to remember what it was like to have Prim’s innocence. Part of her wished she could return to the quiet before her title of princess, before all the pomp and circumstance of turning sixteen and feeling alone even when surrounded by people. 

Katniss rose, desperate to rid herself of her stay and continue to sleep, but a soft knock on her sister’s door paused her actions. The door creaked open and Rue, tiny, beautiful Rue, poked her head in. 

“Your highness, Her Majesty the Queen would like to know if you and your sister will join us for dinner. She says she can hold the kitchen until you are both decent.” Rue’s face was soft and lined with concern. Katniss swallowed thickly and nodded. It would not due to have the court think she was upset or despondent. “I will return in only a moment.” Katniss leaned over and shook Prim gently to rouse her, then stood and attempted to straighten her sleep wrinkled skirt. Feeling suddenly awkward, Katniss began to leave the room while Prim rubbed sleep from her eyes. 

“Katniss,” Prim said. “You must explain your reason for hurrying the end of our stay.” Katniss paused and glanced back at her sister, who was sitting upright now, brushing the tangles from her long, blonde hair with her fingers. Both their gowns were sleep wrinkled, and Katniss’ throat grew suddenly tight.” 

“I can't,” Katniss whispered, glancing over her shoulder as Rue re-entered the room. “Present company aside, it is not wise.” 

“I must know,” Prim said firmly. “Please tell me.” 

“Prim-” 

“If you do not tell me, I will not come to dinner.” Prim crossed her arms over her chest. Katniss scowled at her sister, tempted only briefly to let her go hungry, but cleared her throat and shifted awkwardly before speaking.

“I wish not to marry Gale. These last weeks have only reaffirmed this truth. I have grown fonder of another, as well. But the union would never be permitted,” Katniss finished in a rush; Rue was gather clothes from Prim’s wardrobe, and the young woman was doing an excellent job of feigning deafness as Katniss spoke. 

“I see,” Prim said, repeating herself from earlier in the evening. “And you have brought this development to our mother?” 

“I did. She brushed me off.” 

“When?” 

“The Saturday before our cancelled hunt.” 

“And you said you wished not to be married to lord hawthorne?” 

“I thought the implication-”

“I cannot believe this.” Prim shook her head and buried her face in her hands. At first, Katniss thought her sister was crying, but after a moment it became apparent that she was laughing. Katniss pressed her tongue into her cheek and scowled. 

“I do not see what there is to be laughing over.” 

Prim slipped off the bed and let Rue begin to undress her. “You,” Prim said flatly. When Katniss looked confused, she quirked an eyebrow up and rolled her eyes. “How can you expect our mother to know your needs without speaking them?” 

“I told her that I feared I would not be happy, and that I was feeling uncertain-” Katniss broke off at Prim’s withering look. “I had thought I’d made my needs clear!” Prim shook her head as a new skirt was slipped on over her head. Katniss blinked blearily at her, confused and irritated by Prim’s laughter. 

“Go and dress, sister, but remember: our mother knows Panem because she spent time with it,” She winked at Katniss and shooed her away. 

Katniss stepped into the hall and walked to her room, ripping the scarf angrily from her neck as she did so. What were her sister’s words supposed to mean? And how was it not obvious what she wanted? Katniss sat on the edge of the bed, surprised she was already there and began to undress herself, too impatient to wait for Madge to return from her errands. She had no hope in her ability to maintain a professional discourse with Peeta if it came up, and knowing her uncle, something would. 

#

Three sharp knocks sounded in quick, loud succession and Gale opened his mouth; the door opened anyway, without waiting for his permission, and Gale turned to face his guest, already frustrated. Lord Abernathy stood in his doorway, a sharply calculatinging but seemingly benevolent look on his face. Gale rushed to stand, stooping in a bow as the lan laughed. 

“Stand up,” said Haymitch, “you needn’t do that with me. I am not my sister.” Gale stood, confused and alarmed by Haymitch’s presence. 

“Is there something I can assist Your Lordship with?” Gale asked softly. 

“I merely wanted to know presently what plans you have for after your marriage to my niece.” Haymitch sat in one of Gale’s high backed chairs and glanced across the table strewn with miscellaneous objects. “A trip?” He picked up one of the quills, inspecting the feathers before replacing it on the table and turning his attention back to Gale. “Or are you thinking to begin attempts at children?” 

“My lord, I know not if this is expressly appropriate without Her highness’ presence.” Gale murmured, casting a wary look around him. He leant back against his desk, trying not to show his nervousness. 

“Oh, Her Majesty will not mind. I’m her uncle and, as her father has passed, one of her only living guardians,” Haymitch said with an icy sneer. “Lord Hawthorne, I have heard with much shock that you’ve committed adultery against the princess.” 

Gale coughed in surprise, gripping the table as if he’d been stabbed. “From whom have you heard this?” 

“My niece, your lordship,” Haymitch stood, his face a mask of cruel impatience. “You have options, however.” The older man continued across the room towards him. “Marry the princess and forget this whole affair, which I fear may be hard to do with her constantly at Katniss’ side,” Haymitch didn’t raise his voice, but the malice in it made Gale wish he had, “or end the engagement.” 

“My lord, I cannot-” 

“You can, with any warranted reason. It would not be especially surprising if the princess were to have fallen out of favor with you, given her demeanor.”

“I have not-”

“So you do care for her?” 

“Of course I do!” 

“Then why hurt her so?” Haymitch snapped. Gale hadn’t realized the older man was carrying a large tome until he slammed it on the table. Gale could tell by the ornate decoration that it was a bible and he hated himself for what he knew were to happen. “You have read the Bible, Lord Hawthorne?” 

“I have.” 

“Then you know Exodus 20:14.” 

“Thou shalt not commit adultery.” 

“And James 4:17.”

“So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.” 

“Hebrews 13:4.” 

“Let marriage be held in honor among all-” 

“And let the marriage bed be undefiled,” Haymitch finished loudly. “For God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous.” 

“I am aware!” Gale shouted, stepping around Haymitch to pace the room. 

“And of my child?” 

“I am aware,” Gale repeated this softly, almost secretly. He looked up at Haymitch and then rubbed a hand over his face wearily. “I know of my sin and I repent daily, my lord. It is my- I am weak, I know it, I am sorry.” Gale bowed his head shamefully and sat heavily in a chair at his table. 

“Apologise not to me, I take no great pleasure in reminding you of how an illicit union can break a man.” Haymitch shook his head. “Apologise to the princess. She is hurting, I think, worse than you know.” Haymitch gathered his book and began to walk from the room. “And make a choice, my lord, before we leave tomorrow.” 

“I shall,” Gale replied, looking up just in time to see Lord Abernathy leave, the bible clutched in one hand and the other shoved his his breeches pocket. 

#

Peeta was afraid for Katniss the moment she left his room. Talk of abdication - explicitly on his behalf - was not something he had expected from a woman who held her country in such high esteem. He paced, continued to pace for the hours after her departure, until a light, short knock sounded at his door and he cleared his throat, frozen in place. His heart had jumped in speed, and was raising at the base of his throat; could it be Katniss, come to talk again? 

“Come in,” he said. Madge entered with a sad smile and curtsied lightly. “Oh, hello.” Peeta’s tone was disappointed and he resumed pacing. 

“My lord, the princess would like me to inform you we shall be eating as a court tonight,” Madge said. Peeta nodded and swallowed. He understood; Katniss didn’t want the private meal because she was angry with him. That was understandable. He would be angry too, if he was her. “And,” Madge paused and looked him over, as if silently judging him. “We leave tomorrow for Capitál.” It was like a slap to the face, and he stopped pacing to look at Madge, the hard mask of unsaid words slipping into one of bitter regret. 

“Tomorrow?” Peeta asked desperately. “I- I was under the impression we would not leave until Monday.” 

“Her Highness the Princess has pushed forward our departure,” Madge said. She didn’t elaborate. Her expression told him everything he needed to know. 

“Tell the princess we cannot-” Peeta said, striding towards Madge, his hands outstretched. “Tell her she must reconsider-” 

“Peeta,” Madge said, meeting him half-way. She placed her hands on his shoulders and shook her head. “I cannot. You should know as I know that love does not have happy endings.” 

“That’s not true-” he said, voice hoarse. “My father met a woman some years ago - their love is proof!” 

“Of what? That only after death or half your life you will find a soul-mate who can have you?” Madge stepped back and let her hands drop. “Peeta, we are lucky that we have found anyone at all, that love was even a word we were able to speak once.” Her voice had taken on a hard edge. “Love does not have happy endings. It is not perfect or permanent, and it is always- always ripped away from you before you have had enough time to claim. Four years, two weeks,” Madge gestured between them, “it does not matter. It is never enough until you are old and grey.” 

Peeta swallowed thickly. “She will marry him, then?” 

“And neither you nor I shall ever see our loves again, because I fear she will promote me out of her rankings,” Madge said, blinking away tears. “I will be married off, as Delly was, and-” Tears broke over Madge as they did Peeta, and they both looked away from each other. There was no pretending that this didn’t hurt him deeply. This was never the solution Peeta had wanted. If he was being truthful, he’d hoped she’d stand up to her mother instead of running away; he could never take her life away from her. Even if he believed - which he did - that Katniss _could_ do it, that it would be a challenge at which she succeeded, he would never do it. 

All he wanted was for her to be cared for - a full stomach, a roof and never a question of her next coin, her next scarf or dress or shoe. At least at the court, he knew she would be cared for. 

But he’d be damned if Katniss would marry Lord Hawthorne. 

“Madge, you must tell the princess I require audience with her,” Peeta said, his hands on her wrists. Madge looked alarmed at his sudden start, at the frantic nature of his eyes. “Immediately, at once. There is a problem with the painting and it will not be done by tomorrow.” 

“My lord, I-” 

“Tell her, quickly! Go!” Peeta was shouting now, a plan - a new plan, one far more direct and certain - springing to life in his head. He would not play children’s games with the princess anymore, or try to spook her into disbelieving her love for him, or try even to trick her mind. As Madge sped from the room, he realized her rightness, how he knew love was fleeting and never lasting, and if he could only see Katniss one more time, he had to. 

For fuck sake, he just had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you tomorrow!


	19. Seldom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi, thank you for all the incredible feedback. I really do appreciate everything you do for me. You're the best.

Katniss thought long and hard about the words Peeta had passed onto Madge when she’d gone to tell him of the changed plans. She watched him all through dinner, and when she was unable to watch him, could feel his eyes on her, pleading, longing; it surprised her. She’d thought his refusal had been one of selfishness, that he’d not wanted to marry her for reasons other than those spoken aloud. Every now and then she’d catch her uncle looking at her with a suspicious amount of kindness, and Gale looking at her with something unreadable and undefinable in his features. Did everyone know something she didn’t? 

“I would like to make a toast,” said Emily, rising from her seat in the center of the long table, which looked over the court from its raised dias. The whole court stood - Katniss reluctantly so - and raised their goblets to mirror the queens. Emily turned to look at Katniss, a prideful smile on her sharply calculating features. “To my daughter, Katniss! I wish to you a wonderful marriage.” Katniss swallowed tightly and tried to pull a smile onto her face, feeling enormously uncomfortable. Emily seemed none the wiser, however, and turned back to finish her speech. “Though our time here is coming to a rather quicker end than we thought one week ago, I feel that these three weeks away from the rush of Capitál has done us all some good. We will return for the marriage with full hearts, rich stomachs, and happy minds. To Katniss!” 

“To the princess!” the court shouted together, cheering when the toast was over. Some part of Katniss knew she should have been happy at her mother’s pronouncement, at the pleasure she took in Katniss’ future. Instead, Katniss’ eyes trailed to Peeta, whose face was blank and his eyes stormy. He inclined his head politely to her and looked back down at his plate until Thom tried to strike up conversation and Peeta’s jubilant mask reappeared. 

Madge squeezed Katniss’ leg under the table, leaning in close under the pretense of pouring her more wine. “Of Mister Mellark’s request to have your audience tonight,” Madge said, her voice barely audible as a whisper in her ear above the din of the dining hall. “What say you, your majesty?” 

Katniss looked at Peeta, catching him staring wistfully in her direction. She was reminded of the beginnings of their flirtation as his eyes flicked away and a blush grew up his cheeks. She pushed down the strong emotions burgeoning in her and nodded. “Yea,” she replied. “Briefly, I will join him after dinner.” Madge nodded and sat back in her seat, a pleasant smile on her face - one that looked almost like success. 

“I urge you, my lady,” Madge said, still a little lower than they would have normally spoken, “to speak to your mother again. It cannot hurt to press this.” 

“It cannot, I know. I shall tomorrow over breakfast.” Katniss speared a potato on the end of her fork and looked at Madge. “Eat, we travel tomorrow, so fill yourself now.” Madge grimaced and nodded, a smile dancing in her eyes and on the corner of her lips. 

#

She didn’t bother to knock - he knew she was coming. The worst that could happen would be if he were not there, that it was a trick - a ruse set by Madge, who Katniss still wasn’t sure she could trust. But when she opened the door just a crack, he sat in her chair, candles all around him, working with tired eyes on the portrait of her. Katniss watched him for some time, not wanting to disturb his inner thinkings while he worked so hard on something Katniss would never want to look at again. He didn’t even look up when she sunk to the floor beside the chair, her head resting gently against his knee. 

“You wished to see me, my lord,” Katniss said. Her voice wavered with tears as she did, and they poured out of her when he stopped painting to pet one hand over her hair. Even though her tears were silent, they felt never ending. It was unlike her to cry this much, but she feared she would never fall in love again. 

“I have devised a plan,” Peeta said, still without looking at her. “It may seem foolish or unwise, and you may even hate me for it.” 

Katniss looked at him through narrowed eyes, her voice quiet. “What is it?” 

“Call off the engagement,” Peeta replied, reaching down to pull her onto his lap. Katniss shook her head as she settled there. 

“I cannot, I have told you this.” 

“Why do you need to be married? You are healthy, and the queen is not thinking of stepping away from the throne, is she?” Katniss shook her head, still irritated. “Then call off the engagement. Tell her anything - tell her you are not ready or simply do not wish to be married yet, that you wish to browse at court.” 

“But I do not wish to browse at court, my lord,” Katniss protested, sliding off his lap. She stood with her back facing the portrait, could barely bring herself to turn to look at it. “I do not wish to be married or in love with anyone else, and I wish-” 

“Will you allow me to finish?” 

“No, I will not!” Katniss said, striding away from him to the center of the room. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled, watching him sit impatiently in his chair, waiting for his turn to speak. “You speak to me as if I am a child - all of you, as I if I no idea the ramifications of my actions. I am not clueless, or birdbrained. I understand these things that I say and do. But you and Madge and my sister - all of you dismiss me, tell me I cannot or should not or would not survive.” Katniss scowled at Peeta. “I am not a child.” 

“No, but you have been acting like one,” Peeta replied shortly. “I know you are well aware of how abdication can hurt you, that you understand our relationship to be illicit and therefore dangerous, and that marrying Gale seems your only option, but you speak as a child speaks, in extremes and ultimatums.” 

“I do not.” 

“You do, my lady.” 

“Peeta, I felt it was the only choice presented.” 

“More so than speaking again to your mother?” 

“More so than having my emotions neglected by an absent parent!” Katniss’ tone was starting to rise, her hands shaking as her anger grew. “You know not what it is like to be raised for years without knowing your mother can speak kindly to you!” As soon as the words escaped her, Katniss clapped a hand over her mouth and swore. Peeta laughed humorlessly and stood. “Peeta,” Katniss said, “I did not mean -”

“I want to marry you,” Peeta said as he strode towards her, his socked feet silent against the wooden floor. “I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you. I want to watch your coronation and our children’s births and give you all the art and love I could ever give you.” He stopped in front of her. “I want a life with you, one where I can see the sea and kiss you openly, where dances do not have to be done under the pretext of you teaching me.” Katniss’ throat was thick again with tears, and she stepped forward, placing her hands on his chest. “I want you - have wanted you since I first laid eyes on you two years ago, princess, but I cannot have you if you are to be married, and I will not steal away the care you-”

Katniss was kissing him before his sentence could finish. Her lips moved desperately against his, a danse macabre; if this was the last time she ever kissed him, loved him, touched him, she wanted to remember it. Everything within her ached as they moved slowly - too slowly - to his bed; Peeta wound his arms around her and pulled her onto him, unhooking the loops on her shirt so he could push it off her shoulders, her scarf falling away as he did so. He caught it and tucked it in his pocket with a smile, one that was mirrored by Katniss as she pushed him backwards, straddling him in her long skirts. Her hair fell down as a curtain around their faces, so that as they kissed, touched, and softly whispered the other’s name, all they could see was each other. 

#

Emily cut off Katniss’ every attempt to bring up her wedding the next morning. She’d already tried four different ways, between asking if the castle would be ready when they got there, to saying flat out that her feelings for Gale had changed. Each tact that Katniss took was shot down, pushed aside, rolled over. And every time, Katniss had to rethink and rework her strategy. Perhaps if she were just to announce her wedding was off, that she wouldn’t marry Gale, that would get Emily’s attention. She opened her mouth to speak, but her mother’s voice cut her off and Katniss snapped her jaw shut, her teeth clacking together. 

“I have business I need to attend to before we leave today and I must oversee the packing of our rooms. Katniss, go on your ride early,” Emily said. She turned and leaned toward the window. “Do not go too far, it looks as though there may be rain.” Katniss nodded her head studiously and sighed before rising. 

“I need to speak with you,” Katniss insisted again as she slipped on her shoes. 

“And I will be available on the carriage ride home, should you permit me to ride with you,” Emily said with a wink. Katniss rolled her eyes at the floor and nodded, curtsying before she left the room. 

The sky outside was indeed darkening by the time she got to the garden. Storm clouds were rolling in on the grounds as Katniss mounted her horse. Sitting on Principle, she felt relief from desperate longing to be released into nature, where she could ride her horse and be alone to think. Of course, she was never alone. Even as she was assisted onto her horse by one of her own footmen, another rider, a man with a bow and sheath of arrows, was mounting just behind her, speaking quietly to one of the guards. She could feel eyes on her, and the knowledge that she was uprooting the whole court over a man burned hot within her. 

“Your majesty,” the man said, riding up alongside her. “I’ll follow at a steady pace. Take your lead.” Katniss snapped the reins and set Principle along in a light trot, bouncing in pace with the horse. Her escort fell back a distance, letting her have some space instead of attempting to make polite conversation as some of her escorts did. She spurred her horse on a little faster, glancing momentarily over her shoulder. This pace was enough to set a firm distance between her and the man behind her; Katniss was trying to come up with a new plan with which to fight her mother on her marriage. 

The horses reached the edge of the garden - Katniss steered her horse towards the woods, wanting to take the same path they took hunting. Her mind was so preoccupied she didn’t notice when the first few raindrops began to strike the ground. 

“My lady, may I recommend returning?” 

“A few more moments,” Katniss said over her shoulder. She steered her horse down a narrower path, listening to the rainfall on the leaves overhead. Everything seemed far more still here than in the castle, where she knew the bustle of leaving would be well underway. It saddened her to leave this place, where she’d spent the happiest week and a half of her life. How she’d fallen for someone so fast astounded her. Peeta’s clear blue eyes and sharp smile filled her head as the horse stepped into a clearing. Katniss made one turn with Principle and faced the path, planning to head back. A thunderclap sounded overhead, and Katniss closed her eyes against the feeling of light raindrops against her skin. 

“My lady, might we return now?” asked her escort. Katniss sighed and opened her eyes, looking at the man who faced the opposite direction, his horse beside hers. For a moment she felt guilty for what she was going to do, and then decided not to feel guilty at all. If this was her last chance to act a child before standing strong against her mother’s traditional ways, she would do it. Katniss inclined her head and clicked her reins, heading out of clearing at a slow pace. When she was halfway through and knew her escort had fallen back, she snapped the reins hard and leaned forward in Principle’s saddle; the horse shot forward, racing at top speed. Katniss clung tightly to the reins and looked back to see her escort try to match speed, but fall back when he’d reached the garden. Katniss kept riding, looking out towards the large, open field and sheet of rain washing towards her. 

Within moments of being under the downpour, she was soaked. The sky was dark and the world around Katniss was hazy. Principle whinnied in dismay, his mane slick against his neck. Katniss swung her ponytail over her shoulder and _woo_ ’d her horse to a stop, tilting her head towards the rain. She felt braver now than she ever had. Her heart raced in her chest, faster than the hooves of her horse had struck the ground. Everything was clear - she would not marry Gale. It didn’t matter if her mother required her to, or if the court would see it unfit. Rules had been broken before; who was Katniss to try to amend her life to a set of archaic traditions even her mother saw as unfit? 

Katniss took her time returning to the manor house, even though she shivered and shook under the cold water and her soaking dress. The storm was overtaking the estate. When she arrived at the backdoor, her mother stood aghast on the stairs, the front of her skirts wet. Katniss slipped off her horse with help from a footman and mounted the first few stairs, tired and shaking. Rain still poured hard behind her, and Emily’s confused, concerned face echoed back Katniss’ deepest fears, and guilt pierced her; what a silly time to act out. Her hair stuck to her cheeks and forehead where it had fallen from its braid, and the edge of her dress was streaked with mud. The horse whinnied again, his head shaking back and forth; Emily ushered forward one of Gale’s footmen to take the horse back to the stable, while she stood looking at her daughter. Katniss’ teeth began to chatter.

“What did you think you were doing?” asked Emily, her voice trembling with anger, or fear. Katniss pressed a hand to her forehead. 

“I just wanted some air, mama,” Katniss whispered. Emily shook her head. 

“You’re soaking wet,” her mother said, “and I was- Katniss, I thought you’d run off, the escort said you rain off!” Katniss shook her head, but a fat tear slipped down her face. 

“I should speak with you in p-private,” Katniss stuttered through her shivers. “B-but I fear I will not be able to express my feelings as they are now.” 

“What is wrong?” Emily said as she stepped down the stairs. Katniss looked at her, with her wide blue eyes and thin, firm lips, and she felt sadness for what she was going to say. 

“I cannot marry Gale.” Her mother frowned at the words. 

“You- what?” she asked. Emily reached out to clutch Katniss’ wrist. 

“I cannot marry Lord Hawthorne. I do not love him,” Katnis repeated, shivering harder now. Winds swept through the grounds, carrying the rain with them sideways, so the water hit the women’s faces and dresses, and Katniss’ teeth chattered harder. “I cannot marry someone I do not love.” 

“Katniss, the princess doesn’t always get to lo-”

“You loved my father when you married him!” Katniss yelled, yanking her arm away. “Why am I subjected to this loveless union, when you were permitted to marry a common man?!” Katniss backed up, moving out from under the stone covered back entrance, holding her hands out to her sides, palms facing the heavens. The gesture was not lost on the queen - she looked around at the small estate, the hedgerows and the cracked stone pathway. “ _This is what you want for me?!”_ Katniss voice cracked with the strain of yelling, and she turned to face away from her mother. “You break tradition, break noble law, introduce common blood into our lineage, allow yourself to take his name - but you want this for me?!” 

“Katniss,” her mother said, stepping forward into the rain. It’s cold drops hit her face and neck, and she shivered but continued towards her daughter, whose sobs echoed over the grounds, loud and hard.

“You’ve never loved me,” Katniss moaned, her voice a strained, anguished sob. “You never wanted me around, and this is why you want me married.” 

“That is not why, Katniss! Your father wanted you to be happy,” Emily explained, her hands gripping Katniss’ shoulders as she turned her. Their eyes met, and Katniss could see that her mother was crying. “He thought you could love Gale, that your friendship would become- become something more than it is.” Katniss’ wail ripped through Emily like a knife wound. “You and I-” Emily swallowed back tears; it would not do for both of them to weep. “We have never been friends,” she continued, “but I would like for you to understand that I have always loved you.” Emily stroked Katniss face with the back of her hand, which Katniss leaned into. “I know, should have known, how love so gripped you. Marry whomever you wish. Oh Katniss, I am so sorry I put the crown over your happiness.” Katniss leaned her forehead on her mother’s shoulder and shook with silent tears; Emily’s eyes welled with tears of her own, which fell quietly and without fanfare. They stood in the yard for a long time, with the rain pounding their backs and heads, until Katniss’ shaking legs became jellied and they both stumbled inside, wet and exhausted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter and then the epilogue. Next chapter is gonna be short. <3 Love you much. Keep an eye out... I might post ch20 sooner than you think... xx -Olive


	20. Sequence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait. I ended up getting distracted by other things, but as a reward for everyone being patient, you get this AND the epilogue in one sitting. <3 I love you! Thanks for being so supportive of this story, it's made me want to branch out and try other things.

His low, slow footsteps echoed down the hall as he made his way to the queen’s quarters. Gale’s presence had neither been requested or approved, but tradition was already being broken. He was paces away when Emily burst from her chamber, a frantic expression clouding her face. Her eyes found Gale in the hall, and she paused, frowning. A moment passed between them, one of fearful understanding before the queen finally spoke. 

“The princess has run away,” Emily said quietly. Gale noticed her hands shaking. 

“When?” he asked in reply. The situation was too calm for him. He wanted to run after her, convince her to return, promise that everything would be okay and could be fixed. 

But a dark, selfish thought formed in the back of his head, a whisper that couldn’t be ignored: wasn’t it partially his fault if she truly had run away? 

Emily shook her head and all thought Gale had of announcing the end of his engagement left his mind until the queen next spoke. “Had you any inclination that the princess was unhappy, Lord Hawthorne?” 

“I had some, your majesty.” 

“What of?” she pressed. It looked as though she might stride towards him, but she stayed her ground, glancing over her shoulder at one of Gale’s valets, who stood between her and the entrance to the back stairs. Gale and Emily stayed a stone's throw away from each other, their worry ridiculously juxtaposed against the seeming calm of the manor. 

“Your majesty,” Gale started, breaking off to think. What would he say? He wasn’t even sure of anything himself. He suspected her affair but had no proof; he felt that Katniss did not want to marry him any longer, a feeling reaffirmed by Madge returning to his chambers three or four times since telling him it was ended. “I think she may have had a change of heart regarding the marriage.” He watched realization dawn on the queen’s face, slow and sorriful. 

“Your majesty!” yelled one of the guards, running down the hall towards her. “We believe she is returning!” Gale had never seen the queen move so fast, hiking her skirts up and sprinting down the hall; he followed quickly behind, though he stayed within the manor, pacing in the shadows of the door. The rain pounded on the tiles of the roof, making it possible for him to listen to that while pacing back and forth, instead of Katniss’ slowly rising voice. 

#

The queen and Katniss stumbled in faster than Gale had expected them to, soaking wet with tear stained faces. When Katniss saw Gale, she froze and squeezed her mother’s shoulder. 

“You need to change, lest you fall ill,” Emily said softly, running her hand over her daughters hair before nodding to Gale and striding down the hall, her waterlogged skirts leaving a damp trail behind her. Katniss watched Gale for a short while, her lip quivering. She wrung her hands and cleared her throat and was filled with such obvious discomfort that Gale stepped forward and gripped her upper arms tightly. 

“I think we should not be married, Katniss,” he whispered; the relief that washed over Katniss’ face at his words was immediate and gratifying. She swung forward, catching him around the waist and squeezing him hard. “I will always care deeply for you, but after some thinking, I have realized that neither you nor I want this.” 

“Gale,” Katniss said, pressing her face harder into his chest. He smoothed a hand over her back, the silk of her garment soaking and cold. She was shivering still. “I should have been forthright with you many days ago.” 

“And I many years ago,” Gale said. He looked down at her, at the tears mingling with the rain that dripped steadily from her hair. “I wish you all the happiness in the world, Catnip. It has just taken some time to realize that happiness will not be with me.” 

“You are assisting, now,” Katniss breathed. A short sob burst from her and she stepped back, taking in his soft smile and warm hands still on her back and waist. As he let them fall, she didn’t see the usual push of disappointment that was typical in the past. She saw only the Gale she wanted to see, full of prideful smiles as she curtsied just a little and began to stride backwards toward the stairs to the second floor. “Things will be different now, I swear to you.” Gale nodded. 

“I know,” he said. Katniss turned; she didn’t wait to change or dry. She ran up the long flight of stairs and down the hall, chest heaving with the exertion of it, until she stood in front of Peeta’s door. Katniss hesitated for only a moment before knocking. 

“Enter,” came Peeta’s voice, flat and unaffected. Peeta wasn’t packing like the rest of the castle; he sat in the chair beside the window, his head supported by a hand on his chin, eyes trained on the garden below. She wondered for a moment if he could have seen her argument, but decided she didn’t care when he looked at her, a bewildered expression crossing her face when he recognized her standing there. She left the door open and started towards him. He stood and took a few uncertain steps towards her. She could see the shakiness in his hands. 

“Katniss, you are soaked through,” Peeta said, turning to his bed to gather one of the woolen blankets from the chest at its foot. When he returned, she spoke. 

“Peeta,” Katniss whispered, through her chattering teeth, allowing him to wrap the blanket firmly around her shoulders. “Marry me.” He looked at her more closely, surprise and something more bittersweet, like resignation, crowding his features. 

“This is not at all proper, princess,” he teased, but his tone was flat, almost fearful, and he gripped her shoulders. “I told you I would not marry you should you abdicate.” 

“I did not,” Katniss assured him, a smile winding its way over her still damp face. Peeta glanced away. 

“But I saw-” 

“I did not abdicate, Peeta.” Katniss stepped forward, pushing him backwards as he tried to keep a firm distance between them. “To risk losing you and my home forever, it would be too much to bear.” Katniss took another step back. 

“Then what…?” Peeta asked, moving backwards with her. He hit the table and found he had nowhere left to go. His eyes tracked over her face, at the secretive smile and the pride her eyes carried. 

“Say you will marry me,” she replied. 

“I cannot - I - Katniss, what is going on?” 

“I am asking you to marry me, Peeta, to hell with formalities.” Katniss watched as Peeta’s expression turned from concerned to curious, and she wrenched herself from his hand, gripping them tightly in her two cold ones as she fell to the floor before him. “Please, Peeta. Marry me.” Peeta pulled Katniss up - her skirts left shiny water marks on the floor. 

“Enough with this, I saw your argument with your mother in the courtyard!” Peeta yelled, stepping away from her. “If you did not abdicate then what have you done?” 

“I have ended my engagement!” Katniss shouted back, her voice straining against the volume. “And for the last time, Peeta Mellark, I am asking you to please, marry me!” 

A look of dawning comprehension crossed Peeta’s stern brow, and his demeanor changed. He stepped forward and placed his hands on either side of her face. 

“As princess, I am commanding you to marry me, and you must do as I say!” Katniss’ tone a faux pout, which she emphasized with a stomp of her foot. Peeta laughed and without warning, swept her up in his arms despite the wet, and kissed her deeply. 

“Yes, princess,” he whispered against her lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Of course, princess,” he peppered her face and neck with kisses, eliciting a soft, joyous laugh. “Whatever you say, princess.” Katniss let her head fall back as he kissed her throat. Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes and when she looked down at Peeta, she saw he was crying too. She placed her hands on either side of his face and smoothed them away. She kissed him long and hard and without a single care for who in the castle were to see. 

#

The ride back was long and Katniss still felt chilled, but with Peeta sitting beside her, speaking softly of his life and the things he had done to her mother and sister, Katniss felt warmed and reassured. Emily glanced at Katniss often, surprising the princess by the softness of the expressions her mother wore. Everything felt jubilant and euphoric. There was nothing about the situation Katniss would change, except perhaps to give them the privacy she desired without the fear of being caught. 

They trundled along for hours, and as night fell and Katniss’ eyes grew weary with sleep, Peeta pulled her in and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She could have cried at the gently gesture, at the public nature of their newfound freedom, but instead she closed her eyes and let herself fall asleep to the sound of the horses hooves and Peeta’s heartbeat beneath her ear. 

#

Peeta had to return to Seamme to resolve the business of his property and collect his family for the wedding. By the time he returned, the court was full, and whispers abounded of the second commoner to join the royal family. Even with some turning dark, he couldn’t find it in himself to care as he waited patiently for the day to arrive. By the time the early Monday morning loomed, nearly three weeks after Peeta had met Katniss, he’d only seen the princess twice since their arrival back in Capitál. Even so, he waited patiently to be told where to go and what to do; he was given new clothes and sent to wait somewhere away from the full court. He strolled down the hall, hands tucked into breeches nicer than anything he’d ever owned, and stopped in front of a wall lined with portraits. Nearest him, he recognized the striking features and severe expression of Katniss’ mother, a portrait done well but depicting none of her kindness or understanding. The queen’s face was youthful, round and pink and yet it still held the same calculating expression he’d found himself supervised by on the ride home. 

He swallowed at the curtained portrait beside it, not yet revealed to anyone but he and Katniss. 

“I told my men not to hang it there,” came the queen’s voice from behind him. Peeta turned swiftly and bowed, producing a soft laugh from the austere woman. 

“Stand, my lord,” the queen said. She strode toward him. “My daughter informed me after mass yesterday that she would like to keep the portrait, should you be willing to paint a new one for this space.” 

“Of course,” Peeta said. “But, is the tradition not to have the future queen painted before she is married?” 

“It is,” she replied with a slight incline of her head. “But if you shall swear to tell no one, I will tell you a secret.” 

“Of course, your majesty.” 

“My portrait was painted after James and I were already married for three weeks.” 

Peeta laughed and looked at it again, using that knowledge to read the painting differently. The pink of her cheeks, her slight smile, and her eyes all gave away the love she was in. Peeta nodded and looked back at the queen with understanding. 

“Shall we view your work briefly, Lord Mellark? I would like to see again how my daughter fell in love,” the queen said, her voice gentle and sincere. Peeta’s throat thickened as she drew back the curtain, revealing the thing he had worked so hard on the last three weeks. His focus had shifted, of course, from working to falling in love, but he thought this was the best portrait he’d ever produced in all the time he’d been painting. 

Katniss’ hair fell soft and flowing down the side of her face, over the swell of her breasts, ending just before the line of her shirt. Her left hand gripped the arm of the chair, fingers curling around the wooden armrest, while her right hand rested softly at her lips. Her eyes, which he’d originally intended to look away, out the window, had shifted to look at whomever was viewing. The look was piercing and yet soft, full of something he couldn’t quite make out. His eyes trailed over the slope of her cheekbones, to the curve of her neck and the way her skirts waved against her legs. A hint of her left shoe peaked out. Tears gathered in Peeta’s eyes as the queen let the curtain fall again.

“You have an exquisite talent that I hope you never feel you must end. Thank you, Lord Mellark.” The queen placed a hand gently on his arm and bowed her head as she squeezed lightly. Peeta nodded and tried to blink away the tears, which only caused them to fall. “I am sure you are needed to prepare for the ceremony. You may follow me if you wish?” 

“Of course, your majesty,” Peeta said, his voice shaking. 

“In private, Peeta,” said the queen, using his given name for the first time since meeting, “you may call me Emily.” Peeta smiled a little, heart racing, and nodded as the queen turned and lead him toward the place where he would officially become Katniss’ husband. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a few things:   
> I based Peeta's painting off a few renaissance artists, and if you want to see some examples:   
> Elizabeth Sirani - Allegory of a Painting  
> Andrea del Sarto - Portrait of a Woman  
> Artemisia Gentileschi - A Sybil
> 
> This is going to be the last Peeta/Katniss story I post for a while. I have a couple other stories I have to finish before the summer ends and I go back to classes in late September, and then I have a Gale/Katniss fic I want to work on and I think I'm going to try to finish Somebody to Love.
> 
> You have all been so amazing and I'm so, so glad to have readers like you. I really, really hope you enjoyed this story and that it made sense. This is the longest story I've ever completed, so your praise and critiques have been incredibly helpful. Thank you so much for everything you've said and done, and I hope to see you around! <3  
> xx -Olive


	21. Epilogue: One Year Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love wins.

Katniss sighed as she re-entered her bedroom, back hurting and ready to relax. Peeta’s painting supplies were strewn across their long table on one end of the room, a series of small oil paintings set to dry by the window. The room smelled of linseed oil and bread, a strangely comforting combination. Peeta himself sat on the upholstered bench on the other end of the room, a few letters set on the low table in front of him, along with a tea cup and a pot of tea. He looked up at her as she sat heavily beside him, hands cradling her protuberant belly. 

“Madge wrote. She and Gale will bring Clarence for the baptism. And your cousin sends her regards,” Peeta said, passing her the letter he’d finished reading. “

“And prays for us to be blessed with a female child,” Katniss said sourly, reading one of the passages from the note. “Alma always rambles on.” She tossed the letter beside the stack on the table as Peeta picked up the next to hand it to her. “I just pray the baby lives.”

“As do I, my love.” Peeta set his hand on her leg as she took the letter from him and unfurled the parchment. “From your uncle.” He kissed her temple and stood, picking up the remaining correspondence and taking it to the writing desk. Katniss read quickly, a smile cracking the tired expression she’d worn since entering. 

“He thanks me for persuading my mother to forgive her grudge,” Katniss said, looking up at Peeta excitedly. 

“Read on, my dear,” Peeta replied, a secret smile curling his lips. 

“They are to be married in five days!” Katniss stood, groaning as she did. “He will be attending the castle for the birth.” Tears filled Katniss’ eyes. “It has been a long time since I have seen Maysilee. Their child must be nearing adulthood, I expect.” Peeta met her halfway as she walked slowly around the table. He watched her move, his eyes full of a sort of awe she’d never seen before. Peeta still made everything feel fresh and new, even a year into their marriage. She stepped in as close as she could with her belly in the way, smile growing even fuller as he wrapped his arms around her. 

“Are you ready to be a father, Peeta?” she asked. Peeta nodded. “Good, because this child cannot come soon enough. I grow weary of this pregnancy.” Peeta laughed, low and loud. 

“I love you, princess,” he whispered in her ear. She smiled turned so she could lean her side against him; her head came to rest on his shoulder and she looked out the window, into the giant garden and beyond, towards the city she called her home. 

“I love you, too,” she replied. She pressed a hand to her stomach, and he matched it; their wedding bands glinted in a ray of sunlight that streamed suddenly onto them, warm and yellow and bright. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything I do, I do for you. Thank you again for your support and love while I worked on this story. It's been an intense journey and I'm so glad each and every one of you enjoyed it. <3 Like I said I'll be working on other stuff for a while so my Katniss/Peeta posting is on hiatus I would say for about a month.  
> To stay updated on what I post, please subscribe to my page. I will be posting some HG stuff in about a week, and I'm going to try to finish a couple old HG fics from forever ago. <3 See you guys so so soon!
> 
> Edit***  
> Hi, this is Liv from the future (or rather, the now present). If you're reading this work, I'm sure you're glad that the whole thing is up and the adventure is over.  
> Unfortunately, I have chosen this work to turn into original fiction, which means that as soon as I am finished outlining, drafting, and naming, this story will become private for users of AO3 only. That should occur no later than April 1st, 2020.  
> As soon as the work is completed as a whole, the story will be taken down from AO3 forever.  
> If you really, really like this, you're welcome to download it to keep in your personal archives. I recommend PDF format, as it tends to be a touch easier to read.  
> If you're interested in hearing more about my original work, you can follow me at [the demon ledger's tumblr](https://thedemonledger.tumblr.com/) where I hope to be posting more updates about original fiction soon. 
> 
> See you around. xx - Liv

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please give it a bookmark, a kudo, or a comment - subscribe if you want to stay updated when new chapters arrive.  
> If you want to see more of my work, please click the username at the beginning of the story. Thanks again!


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